50 Shades of G(r)ay
by esompthin
Summary: Soulmate AU, in which your world is gray until you touch your soulmate. Then your world bursts into color. But, once you stop touching, it goes back to gray. This can cause some people to become a bit attached to their soulmate. Alexander never had that problem. He thinks the whole thing is stupid. Jamilton, a bit Lams and Jeffmads.
1. Chapter 1

There's something different to life when you can't see colors. You wouldn't expect this to be so, but it is.

When you can't see the way the skyline lightens into a pure blue, hiding distant mountains behind a pleasant shade; well, there's less of an incentive to spread your legs and run to the tops of those mystical hills. When the only way you can tell how deep a body of water is by squinting at the different shades of grey, there's less of a want to dive into those cool depths. When you have no idea what the slightly varying shades of grey in the dying leaves represents, is it worth it to take a walk through the woods?

And when you can see colors, no one else will understand. Try describing to a friend what color a sunset is. Try expressing the beauty of that friend's eyes. Try to find the way you would let that friend see what you see. It's certainly more difficult than it sounds. What's the purpose of enjoying the world around you when there is no way to describe what you've seen to others?

This is the fatal flaw of humanity.

Those who can see the colors are both happier and more stressed. They find comfort in the vibrant world around them; but are forced to keep it to who can't see the colors are both more focused and more distracted. They don't need to stop to watch the flowers bloom, because to them, it's just a grey bud turning into a grey plant. But, sometimes, when those thoughts keep them up at night, they take far, far longer getting to work in the morning; slowing their steps to look up at the grey sky and grey clouds. What colors could be hidden there?

Now, for a long time, scientists couldn't tell why some could see what others couldn't. The sight would come and go; there one second and then flickering into grayscale the next. It was deemed looking into.

It was sometime around the sixteenth century that scientists and philosophers agreed that, upon testing couples, only those who were born to be together could see the colors of the world. If you were not meant to be with your partner, you wouldn't be able to experience what others could. But, with further exploration, the scientists discovered another factor.

You could only see the colors if your partner and you were meant to be together; connected by the strings of fate and the words of gods, but, there was a catch. The both of you could only see the colors, if you were touching each other. Once your skin brushed away from the other, so did the hues of the world.

It is reported that the couples in these experiments were desperate to stay touching. When the scientists segregated them; the couples did everything in their power to return to their partner. In some cases, they even resulted to using violence to get what they wanted.

This is why, in my highest opinion, this need to search out your "soulmate", as a great sixteenth century writer dubbed, is not only immature, distracting, and crude, but also dangerous. Anyone who actively searches out the soulmate that will bring them color should be considered incapable to produce educated cognitive thought.

A. Ham, 15

That excerpt was from a report Alexander Hamilton wrote when he was fifteen. It's what got his cousin's attention enough to wrangle up the money for a ticket to the mainland. Four years and a new home later, and Alexander still feels the same way. He had never searched out for his soulmate. It was just another unnecessary distraction.

Now he had far more important things to work on. Like fighting a war and creating a new nation. He had just introduced himself to none other than Aaron Burr, who then introduced him to three revolutionists.

"I'm John Laurens." The attractive man said, holding out his hand to shake. Hamilton reached forward to take his, but was cut off as another man pushed in front of him.

"Oui, oui, mon ami." The man appeared to be teasing Laurens, who was shooting him a deadly glare. Grinning, the new man introduced himself, "Je m'appelle Lafayette! Comment vous appelez-vous?"

"Je m'appelle Hamilton! Je suis enchanté de faire votre connaissance!" Alexander said, smiling politely.

Lafayette blinked rapidly, then his face split into a wide grin. "Mon dieu! Il parle français!"

"Oh god, there's two of them." The third man muttered and Aaron Burr smirked in response. The third man pushed Lafayette away gently, "And, I'm Hercules Mulligan."

The more the men talked, the more they realized they all had the same passion to make the colonies their own independent country. Hamilton grew close to the three a lot faster than he expected himself to; he hardly noticed when they left Aaron Burr to sulk alone in the corner.

They left the bar late into the evening; the sun sinking below the skyline. Leaving the sky just a slightly lighter shade of grey.

Hamilton thought nothing of it when Herc clapped his shoulder as he passed him; heading towards his hotel room. He didn't recognize what was happening when Laf ran his fingers through Alexander's hair, whispering a sultry, "J'ai juste realisé ceci, mais vous ressemblez beaucoup à mon prochain petit ami."

"Arrête de m'harceler!" Hamilton laughed, "We only just met!"

Lafayette snorted and shook his head, "That's fair." He gave a short wave as he followed Herc, "Adieu, Alexander."

"À plus tard, Lafayette." Alexander chuckled, ready to head towards his small apartment. He stumbled and immediately fell into John Laurens. The both of them crashing to the ground outside the bar. "Shit! I'm so sorry, John."

But his new friend was silent. Alex looked down at him, shifting so his weight wasn't crushing the slightly bigger man. Laurens was staring at him like he just offered him the key to the king's castle. John's eyes darted back and forth between Hamilton's. Then, they glanced over to their left, to the sunset. Hamilton watched as John sucked in a shaky breath.

Alexander looked over, but it looked the same as always. Just a grey ball on a grey sky going below a grey city. Glancing back at John, he saw tears forming in the other's eyes.

"Do you see them?" John whispered, his eyes not leaving the sunset.

"See what?" Alex asked, frowning. This was getting weird. His new friend may have a few screws loose upstairs. John's face snapped up to look at him; his eyes darkening. Hamilton could feel the shudder run through the other man's body.

"Nothing." John said, cold and hollow, "Nevermind."

Alexander shrugged and helped Laurens up. "Okay, well, have a good night, Laurens."

"Yeah." John said, still holding his hand, his eyes distant. Hamilton laughed awkwardly and pulled his hand away. He watched as John snapped back into the moment, blinking rapidly. Laurens cleared his throat and then quickly pushed past him, running in the same way Herc and Laf.

Hamilton watched him for a moment before deciding it must be a colony thing. He headed home without any further incident.

* * *

Laf and Herc were waiting for him, just past the corner of the bar. Laurens was sprinting so fast, tears in his eyes, that he almost ran right past them. The other two stopped their conversation when he ran up.

"Oh, John…" Hercules whispered, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, he wasn't ours either."

"Yeah. I thought for a second, he might've been mine, but, nothing." Lafayette added, pouting slightly.

"You have to stop hoping that every pretty face is yours." Herc continued, "I know that you liked this one, but you don't even know if he's like _that_."

"Trust me," Laf winked, "He is."

John was shaking in Hercule's arms, "...That's not it."

"Did he say something?" Herc's arms tightened slightly, and Laf's expression darkened.

John shook his head, "No, no…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, "He's mine… But I'm not his."

The two men looked at each other, this sort of thing has never been heard of before. Someone whose soulmate wasn't theirs? That's impossible.

"How do you know?" Hercules asked slowly.

John pushed himself away slightly, "When we touched, I could see the sunset. But he couldn't."

"What'd it look like?" Lafayette asked, voice a desperate whisper.

"Beautiful." John replied, his hands still shaking. "I have to see it again."

Herc shrugged, "Well, at least you know who to go to."

John shook his head, biting his lip. "What luck I have."

* * *

It was a ball like no other. In a dark December night, a group of revolutionists and New York's finest got together to get shitfaced and dance the night away. John was hanging on Alexander's arm, which he's done ever since the two first met. The man was just a touchy individual; Alex didn't see anything wrong with it.

Aaron came up to him, almost looking excited. That was Alex's first clue that the man had already started drinking. The second was how he slung his arm around Alex's shoulder and pointed across the room. He slurred in Alex's ear, "The Schuyler sisters."

"So they're the goal for the night?" Alex laughed at his friend's antics.

"One of 'em." Aaron muttered, taking another swig of his drink.

"Which is the most important?" Alex asked, his voice quiet.

Aaron pointed to the sister that was dancing around the room, a bright smile on her face. "Angelica. She's the oldest, prettiest, and smartest. She's just all the 'est's."

"God, you are wasted." Alex snorted, "So she's who you want to dance with?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Aaron said, shortly after mumbling, "'m not wasted."

There was a short pause as the two men watched the sisters interact. Then, like a little child, Hamilton quickly said, "Bet I can dance with her first."

"What?!" Aaron and John said at the same time.

"John, hold Burr." Alex said as he slipped away into the crowd.

John's arm was still extended, reaching out for the colors that left the second Alex did. His heart was sinking lower and lower the closer Alexander got to Angelica. Aaron straightened, suddenly appearing much more sober than before.

"When are you going to tell him, Laurens?" The other man said, setting his drink down, almost looking disgusted by it.

"W-what?" John tore his gaze away from the scene before him to look to Burr. He knew what colors were supposed to be dancing in the other man's eyes, but all he saw was grey.

"He's yours. When are you going to tell him?" Aaron said, watching as Alex charmed the eldest sister.

John choked on his spit, "I-I- I don't know what you're-"

Aaron stepped closer, lowering his voice, "John, it's obvious. No one touches someone that much if it doesn't mean something."

There was fear in John's eyes, and it must've shown, because the other man's face softened, "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. It's not my position to do anything. I was just … curious."

"You sent him over there on purpose." John whispered, realizing what just happened. "Jesus, Aaron, what if she's his-"

"John, worry less." Aaron said, watching the grey figures dance together, "He's coming back."

Relief washed through John as his Alexander walked back to him. He extended his arm, latching himself to Alex's side as soon as he could. Alex didn't seem to notice, but John felt lighter as the room burst into color.

God, Alex was beautiful in color. His eyes were so vibrant, his cheeks always flushed, and the way the candlelight danced across his skin made John want to cry. He zoned out as Alex and Aaron started up a conversation. If Alexander realized that Burr wasn't nearly as drunk as he was led to believe; he didn't mention it.

Angelica brought her little sister to dance with Alex. Which meant John had to let go again. But Angelica entertained him by dancing with him. Neither of them even pretended to not be watching the new couple a few feet away.

At the first touch, John watched as Eliza went through the same thing he did. She gasped, her face lighting up with delight as the room burst into shades of reds and greens. She looked back at Alex, who gave her a confused smile. Angelica growled at the sight of it.

"She's not his." She muttered.

"But he's hers." John replied.

"I've never heard of that before." Angelica didn't look away from her sister, who was quickly stepping back from Hamilton.

John's voice was flat, empty, yet full of pain, "Me neither."

When it was clear Eliza was running away from the situation, Angelica dropped his hands and raced after her without another word. John gazed sadly at Alex as he wondered why he was abandoned before they could even finish the first dance.

John forced a smile on his face as Alex weaved his way through the crowd, reaching out to grab Lauren's hand. As color washed back over the room, John relaxed slightly.

At least Alex always came back to him.

* * *

Alexander got a letter one day. Which wasn't uncommon. He got plenty of letters every day; from many, many different people. But this specific letter was one that destroyed him.

It was from South Carolina. But it wasn't from John.

It said;

"On Tuesday the twenty-seventh, Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina. These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over. He is buried here until his family can send for his remains. As you may know, John dreamed of emancipating and recruiting 3000 men for the first all-black military regiment. The surviving members of this regiment were returned to their masters.

We send this letter to you, Alexander Hamilton, on Lauren's request; as he had written you as his soulmate. Encompassed in this envelope is a letter he had written for you, should he die in battle."

 _Soulmate?_

Alex's fingers were shaking as he pulled out the handwritten letter folded inside. He choked on the few sentences written there.

' _It was you. It was always you. Thank you, for bringing color to my life, even if I couldn't do the same for you.'_

"Oh, John…" Alex choked, his voice trembling with sobs threatening to escape. "I'm so sorry."

Everything made sense now. Their first meeting, up until John held on to Alex and wouldn't let go the night he was leaving for South Carolina. Alex had laughed at him for his clinginess back then. God, he wished he held him closer now.

* * *

Maybe it's selfish, but Alexander used this as just another reason why people shouldn't focus on their soulmates. Even as a teenager, Alexander knew, it would only lead to pain.

So he buried himself in his work. Became a lawyer; the best in the business. He worked under Washington's guide. He became the Secretary of Treasury. With each grey sunset, he slowly repressed the thought of a soulmate. More and more, he forced himself to feel blessed that he never found a soulmate. He really didn't need that kind of distraction in his life.

And then, there was Thomas Jefferson. That fucker.

Hamilton is a polite man, his mother taught him his manners in her short time. So when a new man walked into the office, and everyone swarmed him, welcoming him home, Hamilton approached slowly.

"Thomas Jefferson?" Alex clarified. The man turned to look at him, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. Alex held out his hand to shake, "Alexander Hamilton."

James Madison tugged on Thomas's arm, whispering non-too-quietly, "This is the man I told you about."

"Hmm." Jefferson's gaze flicked over him, unimpressed. "This is the man ruining America?"

"Excuse me?!" Alex balked, dropping his hand.

Madison nodded, resting his head on Jefferson's shoulder. Hamilton recognized that kind of physical contact. He didn't have a single doubt in his mind that Madison could see colors right now. Hamilton opened his mouth to comment about that little fact, but Washington stepped between them.

"Gentlemen, please. You can fight at the cabinet meeting."

"Yes, sir." Hamilton mumbled, stepping away.

Thomas raised an eyebrow, his lips coiling into something unpleasant.

* * *

Many could tell, Washington regretted having these two men on his team immediately. The shouting and snide comments were awful. Thomas could just say one or two words and it would send Hamilton into a fit for weeks. And vise versa, Alex could just send Jefferson a certain look and it would have him ranting to anyone who would listen until his voice went hoarse.

"No, I'm done. That's all I had to say." Thomas sighed, leaning back into Madison's touch. The other man was currently giving him a massage, working the knots out of his muscles. His shirt was off, because Madison claims that's the best way to relax.

"Hmm." James hummed as his fingers worked expertly into his shoulder.

"AND!" Thomas continued, "He thinks this is fucking funny! I know he does! That's got to be the only reason. I can't figure out why the hell someone would be this stupid on purpose! Because he's a smart man, James. I hate to say it, but he is. But he proposes the stupidest ideas!"

James smiled at the red flush on his friend's face. He walked around him, keeping a hand on his shoulder, so he could get a better look at that juicy angry blush. Madison sighed as he settled himself in Jefferson's lap, continuing the massage this way.

Thomas didn't comment on it; they've certainly done weirder things together.

"I think he genuinely believes what he's saying." James says. "He might just be that stupid."

"You're probably right." Thomas sighed, tipping his head back. James' gaze swept down to that gorgeously tan skin. They were quiet for a few moments and then Thomas laughs softly, "Is it weird that I want to know what color his eyes are?"

"Brown." James replied immediately.

Both of them froze. Thomas slowly tilted his head back down, his eyes still closed. James' hands fell from his shoulders, as he gulped.

"James." Thomas said, slow and perilous.

Madison licked his lips, "Thomas."

Thomas opened his eyes, those deep browns sharp with danger. He looked his friend up and down, a quick flick of the eyes. Maybe he didn't see what was there. Or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, he rolled his eyes and deadpanned, "That doesn't help me at all. I don't know what brown looks like."

"Right." James sighed, relieved that Thomas wasn't going to question him. "Sorry."

* * *

Naturally, things only escalated. Casual insults turned into barbing threats and, really, it should have been expected when Thomas said something a bit too cruel and Hamilton launched himself across the table.

Everyone screamed, scrambling out of the way as Thomas and Hamilton landing painfully on the ground. Hamilton raised his fist, ready to show this motherfucker what he thought of his financial proposal. But he froze as he opened his tear-filled eyes.

Thomas was under him; his caramel cheeks dusted with a pink flush, his deep brown eyes wide with a flurry of emotions. Hamilton's breath caught in his throat and he gently lowered his hand. He looked up at the room around them.

Bright, gorgeous colors invaded his eyes. There was so many things he'd never seen before hidden in the grey shadows that were now at the forefront of his mind. People were staring at them. They were full of color, too. Everything appeared so glorious, so beautiful, that for the first time in his life, Hamilton understood why people strived for this so much.

Alexander looked back down to Thomas, but the man hadn't moved. He was still staring at Alexander, the same expression on his face. He appeared in a trance. Alex realized why.

"Holy shit." Alex whispered, recognition dawning on his features. If he could see color, and he's touching Thomas, that means that… "Holy fucking shit."

"Hamilton!" Washington shouted, pulling him up and off of Thomas. As he did so, the two lost touch and the color was zapped from their worlds. It was only then, when the world turned monochromatic again, did Thomas finally take in a breath and snap out of whatever had hypnotized him.

Alexander couldn't tell you what Washington was saying. He could assume it was the usual, 'what is wrong with you, son? You can't hit people!' lecture. But none of the words stuck. All he could do was stare at Thomas's grey face as Madison helped him to his feet. Madison made eye contact with Alex, realizing what just happened. No one else in the room seemed to realize how destructive that tackle really was. Thomas shakily nodded at something Washington said. Slowly, he tore his eyes away from Alexander and Madison led him out of the room.

One by one the cabinet members left the office room. Washington gave him one more disapproving scowl and then left him alone in an empty, grey confrence hall.

Alex's knees gave out and he caught himself on the table. He stared out at the dark door that Thomas left out of. His nerves were shot; his mind racing; his lungs not filling with enough air. Jesus Christ, this couldn't be right.

The room around him felt so small and … grey.

He'd never felt that way before.

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Brown. _Brown_.

For a split second, Thomas was a little mad at James. Because he never told him that brown was the most beautiful color in all of existence. It was deep and fluid, the way it danced in Alexander's eyes. It held thoughts, emotions that Thomas could never even _hope_ to understand.

Brown was light and heavy at the same time. Brown was smooth and thick and strong. Brown was a blessing as it flickered over Thomas's face. Brown was mysterious and honest.

Brown was Hamilton.

Thomas felt a bit out of control of his own body. He couldn't force himself to throw Alex off of him. He couldn't blink, in fear of the brown disappearing from his view. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the immigrant on him; the world around him, as colorful as it may be, was nothing in comparison to that sun kissed skin.

But then, dear Lord in heaven, no please, Alexander was being lifted off of him; like a child. Thomas felt the warmth of Alex's skin slip away from him as the cold of the grey tones washed over the room.

James was helping him up; but Thomas wasn't even sure his legs could hold him right now. He leaned against his friend heavily, his eyes still locked with Alexander's.

 _Oh dear God, why him?_ Was mixed with, _Yes, yes, thank you, it's him!_

He was being led out of the room, and didn't even recognize his own office when James closed the door behind them. Thomas shakily slunk down into his swivel chair; his eyes trained on the ground.

"Thomas?" James asked, walking up to him, "Are you alright?"

Thomas didn't speak, he just shakily held up his hands in a noncommittal gesture. He looked away, out the window, and tore his fingers through his hair. Biting his lip, he glanced up at James. His friend placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, sighing.

"It wasn't the fight that has you so shaken." He said knowingly. He sat down on Thomas's desk, pulling the other man's chair closer so he could play with his hair. There was a pregnant pause and Thomas felt James' hands hesitate for a second, "He's yours."

Thomas scoffed, immediately going into defensive mode. "No, he ain't. I don't want anything to do with him."

James tipped his chin up, smiling sadly down into his eyes, "Tom… it's okay. It was meant to be. You should try to be a little open-minded about this."

The taller man looked away, batting James' hands away. He stood up, unknowingly turning James' world gray. Thomas paced the room, his hands clenched into fists, his teeth forcibly grounded together.

"This isn't what I wanted." Thomas said, "I wanted a beautiful southern belle. Or a French maiden. I didn't want this… this… obnoxious, arrogant immigrant."

"Is this because he's a man?" James almost seemed afraid to ask.

Thomas rolled his eyes, "No, do you even know me? I just… it's fucking _Hamilton_! I don't want to be _fucking_ Hamilton!"

James smiled, holding back a bittersweet laugh. "I know. Just, try to calm down for now, alright? Knowing Hamilton, he won't want anything to do with you either."

That made Thomas stop in his tracks. James didn't even realize he said the worst possible thing. A long, painful breath climbed its way out of Thomas's lungs. He put his head in his hands, hiding his face, "What am I going to _do_ , Jemmy?"

* * *

 _I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not freak out. I will not-_

"AND FURTHERMORE," Alexander was shouting, ignoring the mantra that has been in his head on repeat for the past day and a half. "HE DID THIS ON PURPOSE, JUST TO RUIN MY LIFE!"

"He became your soulmate." Angelica said, looking down at her wine, "On purpose. To ruin your life."

"YES!" Alex said, "Oh, he thinks he's smart, trying to pull one over on me, but I won't be tricked. Nope! I am the same Alexander Hamilton that I always was! Soulmates are stupid and pointless and I will _not_ take any part in it!"

Eliza and Angelica shared a look. The two had been his friends for years; they were with him through the mouring of Lauren's death. Alexander appeared at their family house, late at night, demanding to speak to them. He must've looked a complete and utter wreck, because their father, Philip Schuyler, didn't even protest.

"Alex, I think you're freaking out a bit-"

"NO I'M NOT!"

"-over nothing." Eliza said gently. She placed a hand on his knee, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she did so. She always seemed far more comfortable when she was touching him. "You found your soulmate. That's amazing! You found the one person who will make you happy for the rest of your life."

Alexander's expression was one of the utmost horror, "did you even _hear_ what I just said!? It's THOMAS FUCKING JEFFERSON! That motherfucking piece of shit will _never_ make me happy!"

Angelica muttered into her drink, "God help the soul that'd leave you satisfied."  
Alexand scowled at her but then sat down in between the sisters. He sighed a long, depressed breath, "I just don't want this. Any of it. I have to be the best I can be for our country. If there's some shitty soulmate in the way…"

"Well, Thomas was already in your way to begin with." Eliza pointed out. "Not much has changed there."

Alex blinked rapidly, realizing that she was right. "Okay, but what if he wants to, like, _date_ me?"

Angelica snorted, "I think not."

Eliza laughed, "No sooner than pig grow wings and fly."

To Alex's surprise, there was a painful tug in his chest at their comments. He ignored it as best as he could, while he looke dup at the ceiling, "What am I going to _do_ , guys?"

* * *

Thomas was absolutely _not_ nervous when he walked into the white house the next day. He was fine. Honestly. He definitely wasn't worried about running into Hamilton. Hamilton? He was the _last_ thing on Thomas's mind. Not even the last. After the last.

"Thomas."

Jefferson jumped a mile in the air, his hand clutching his chest as his heart suddenly decided to stop working. He relaxed when he saw it was just James, a hand resting on his shoulder. "Jemmy, I swear, if I see him right now, I'll freak."

James gave him a sympathetic smile, "I know. Just, you have to relax. Come on, let's go give Washington these papers and then we can see if there's any tea leftover."

Thomas let James lead him towards their boss' office by his hand. He felt a bit like a child, being pulled along, but he couldn't help it. He looked down every hallway on the way there, like he was expecting Hamilton to jump him from the shadows.

This was ridiculous. He was a grown ass man. He wasn't afraid of some tiny immigrant with beautiful eyes. With a deep breath, he pushed past James and led the rest of the way to the office. He went to reach for the door, but before he could, it swung open and a distressed man tumbles into him. Before he even hit the ground, his world was an explosion of color.

Alexander's face was somewhere over his shoulder. Thomas's eyes, after a moment of staring blankly at the white ceiling, flicked frantically over to Madison, who was staring down at them with shock.

Thomas's hand moved on its own accord. It gently rested itself on Hamilton's hip. He felt the man above him freeze for a split second, before he quickly moved to sit up. He was now straddling Thomas, who slowly propped himself up on his elbows.

"Fuck, Jefferson, watch where you're going." He said, but his voice was too shaky to hold any real heat. His body was practically vibrating on top of him. Thomas couldn't do anything but stare, his mouth slightly agape.

The other man was wearing a dark blue suit that looked _far_ better in color than it did in grayscale. Thomas wanted to run a hand down the other man's clothed chest, just to see the contrast between his skin and the fabric. Hamilton wasn't much better. He had swallowed hard about three times in the past three minutes.

James cleared his throat loudly. Thomas looked over at him, seeing the angry red blush on his face. Wasn't that a strange sight? Thomas never really realized that James was more than just different shades of grey. Alexander turned to glare at James, and Thomas took that moment to push the other man off of him.

He felt cold, suddenly, when they lost contact. He immediately regretted his decision. But he was breathing too hard and there was a heat in his cheeks that he didn't want Hamilton to be able to see anymore. James quickly was at his side and helped him stand up, an arm wrapped around his waist to keep him steady.

The two stared down at Hamilton, who had the fear of God in his eyes. Thomas tried to sneer at him, but he was sure it came out more as a grimace.

His voice was carefully cold when he said, "Excuse me, Hamilton." and made a wide step around the other man, careful not to touch him again.

Thomas let out a shuddering breath when he and James were safely in Washington's office. He looked over to his friend, worry clear on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but a deep, commanding voice cut him off.

"Jefferson? Is everything alright? I heard some commotion outside." Washington said not unkindly. He raised an eyebrow when Thomas could only gasp awkwardly.

James, bless him, came to his rescue. "Everything's fine, sir. Thomas just got some bad news outside. It's nothing to worry about."

Washington evaluated them for a second, before nodding and ruffling through his papers, "Very well. Is there something you needed?"  
James nudged him and Thomas' mouth clamped shut with a clack. He cleared his throat and said, "I have my reports for you, sir. They're ready for your evaluation and approval."

Washington hummed noncommittally and let them place their reports on his desk.

Thomas was only slightly pleased that Hamilton had made himself scarce when they found themselves back in the hallway.

* * *

Hamilton ran his fingers through his hair so many times it grew thin and greasy. Huffing at the realization of this, he quickly pulled it into a messy bun. His fingers fidgeted with each other, wringing them nervously as he started pacing. He almost tripped over his own feet when there was a knock on his office door.

He chewed his lip, taking an unconscious step backwards as he said, "Come in?"

Alex relaxed at the sight of an old friend. "Aaron Burr."

"Sir." Aaron greeted, closing the door behind him. "I have some papers to drop off. Have you finished the outline for your…" He trailed off as he looked up from his papers. Alex's gaze shifted away self-consciously. Genuine concern flashed in Burr's eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!" Alexander said far too fast and much too loud. Burr only raised a single eyebrow. Alex deflated with a sigh, rubbing his forehead exhaustingly. "It's about Jefferson."

Aaron hummed noncommittally. "You two certainly have some… interesting afflictions with each other."

Alex sat back on his desk, running a hand around his neck, "That's one way to put it."

There was a moment of silence where Alexander spaced out and Aaron watched him carefully. The other man sighed softly and walked over to set the papers on Hamilton's desk. Then he turned and leaned against it, looking sideways at Hamilton.

"So what's it like?" Aaron asked. Alex just glanced at him with a small, confused frown. Aaron smiled lightly and clarified, "Hating your soulmate?"

Alexander jumped so far away Burr was almost impressed. Alex's face grew a dark grey, which Aaron knew meant he was blushing furiously. Alex sputtered, which Burr had never seen him do before.

"I-I-I- No- I don't- soulmates?! Ha! Yeah right! Haha…" His face only grew darker when Burr continued to stare at him, unimpressed. Finally, the immigrant let out the smallest voice Burr had ever heard, "Who told you?"

"No one. It was obvious." Burr said slowly, "After the tackle, and the thing in the hall-"

"You saw that?" Alex looked sheepish.

"Not to mention you two have been skittish all day. Jefferson almost bit my head off when I asked him what color you were wearing today." Burr smiled at that, winking when Alex sputtered out a laugh.

Alex's smile fell slowly as he looked towards the window. "Please don't tell anyone."

"I won't." Burr promised, "But I do think you should figure this out, Alexander. I've seen far too many people live in pain because of their soulmate. You shouldn't let whatever you previously had against Jefferson blind you to what's being offered to you."

Alexander closed his eyes. "Burr?"

"Yes?"

"Talk less."

He looked up and grinned at Aaron, who scoffed and playfully slapped his shoulder. "Whatever, Alexander. I look forward to seeing you and Jefferson dance around each other the rest of your lives."

Hamilton stood in silence long after the door to his office closed.

* * *

Whenever they were near each other they stood as far away as possible. Madison started walking in the middle of the hall, having Jefferson walk by the wall, to insure that if Hamilton were to walk by, there would be no chance of them touching. Hamilton wouldn't even look at the other man, even when insulting him. Jefferson kept his hands in his pockets at all times when the shorter man was around.

You would think they started to fight less, in their attempt to avoid each other. But that wasn't the case at all. If anything, their arguments got louder. The two would scream from opposite sides of the room. Their feet remained rooted in spot, when previously they had no qualms getting up in the other's face.

Neither of them knew it, but they both started drinking more. Alexander would go on walks uptown and watch as soulmates cooed over the blue sky. There was a deep pain in his chest. An itch under his skin. His fingers ventured forward before Hamilton even knew what he was reaching for.

It was like a tick, a voice in the back of his mind, a desperate need deep in his gut. Once he knew how bright and vibrant the world was, the dark grey that he saw everyday was disgustingly depressing.

Everyday he would force those thoughts away. He didn't need a soulmate. He never had one before and he doesn't need one now. All this has done is prove him right; soulmates just get you in trouble. They're a useless distraction.

Hamilton didn't need the colors. He was perfectly satisfied with the gray world around him. Besides, he wrote in black ink.

* * *

He didn't need it. He didn't. He certainly didn't need Jefferson. Those were the thoughts in his mind when he was walking towards his seat on the other side of Washington. To get there, he had to pass Jefferson. And, god, his fingers itched to touch the other man. But he didn't. He didn't need to.

* * *

"Hamilton? Leaving at a reasonable time?" A snarky voice said from behind him. Alex stiffened up, he forced himself to relax, but it didn't work. "The end must be nigh."

Alexander turned and glared at the taller man. "For your information, Jefferson, I just didn't want to see your ugly mug anymore."

Thomas scoffed, his perfect lips pulling into a sneer. "Do you even own a mirror? They can't be that expensive. I'm far prettier than you'll ever be."

"Right, because that's what I want to be. Pretty." Alexander said dryly. Jefferson rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Really, Alexander, it wouldn't hurt you to put some effort into how you look." Jefferson drawled, he reached forward, without thinking, to pick at something in Alexander's hair. As soon as his fingers brushed against Alex's scalp, the two froze, staring wide-eyed at each other.

Immediately, Alexander's face turned a bright pink. Thomas unconsciously licked his lips at the sight of it. A shiver ran through Alex's body at the sight of Jefferson in all his colorful glory. Neither of them knew how long they stood there, practically shaking, just at the sight of the other in color.

"Excuse me, boys." Washington said, mildly amused, as he scooted around them. Alexander stepped forward to give his boss more room, but that only meant that he stumbled into Thomas's arms.

As soon as their president was gone, Alexander pushed Jefferson away forcibly. The two immediately were plunged into a dark, colorless world. Hamilton clutched his hands close to his chest, to keep him from reaching out again.

"What the _fuck_ , Jefferson!?" Hamilton hissed, his eyes almost watering, "You can't just _touch_ me!"

Jefferson opened his mouth once, and then shut it when nothing came out. He blinked rapidly and then found his voice, his expression turning deadly, "You were the one that _threw_ yourself into my arms!"

"Bullshit! I tripped and you know it!" Alexander almost yelled.

Jefferson shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers clenching around the fabric. The two glared at each other and tried to leave at the same time. Jefferson pulled away, as if he was stung, when they both reached for the door handle at the same time. They were both careful to avoid contact when they furiously stomped out the door.

* * *

Eliza was sitting next to him, her hand on his knee, as he told his woes. She smiled sadly when he looked up at her. Warmly, she rubbed her thumb soothingly against his leg.

"Alex, dear, you need to relax."

"I can't!" Alex sat forward suddenly, his hands waving in the air as he spoke, "It's infuriating! I don't need this! I don't want this! But deep inside me…" His voice grew very quiet, vulnerable, "...I keep thinking about the colors. I keep reaching for him when he's around. I keep _wanting_ what I can't have…." He looked over to Eliza, helpless, "Do you know what that's like?"

The woman slowly removed her hand from him, her world washing into dark grays. "Yes."

* * *

Jefferson was sitting at the cabinet meeting table, looking over his notes. The world was dark and grey. As always. And then, he felt a warm hand brush across his back, and the for a split second, there was a flash of color all around him. As soon as it came, it was gone.

He sat straight up, his spin rigid as he whipped around to see Hamilton standing a few steps away. The other man appeared to be frozen, his gaze on his slightly outstretched hand. Quickly glancing to make sure no one else was in the room, Thomas said, confused, "Hamilton?"

"I-IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Alexander shouted, not turning to look at him. His hand immediately flew to his chest, and he scrambled away to his seat. Thomas wanted to say more, but people started filing in, and he certainly wasn't going to out himself around them.

Throughout the entire meeting, Jefferson kept looking at Hamilton, who was adamantly avoiding his gaze.

When it came time for the Daily Fight™, Alexander was more ruthless than ever. He interrupted and shot down every thought that came from Jefferson's mouth. He knew it was just because the smaller man was embarrassed for his previous slip up, but that didn't stop him from feeling a bit hurt.

* * *

The accidents kept happening. Alexander didn't _mean_ to keep touching Jefferson. But whenever he wasn't paying attention, and the other man was in an arm's reach, his fingers were drawn to him.

When he wasn't around, he wanted him near. When he was near, he wanted him closer. When he was closer, he wasn't close enough! It was maddening! Alexander caught himself wondering when he'd be able to touch Jefferson again. He hated it!

And yet, when he was walking in the hall, he grabbed Jefferson's arm, stopping him. The two were mesmerized for a moment, as the colors surrounded them. Alex looked around at the green potted plant and the brown floor. At the cream ceiling and the yellow candlelight.

Hamilton always looked around when the colors appeared. He wanted to soak them all in. He wanted to know what the world around him was composed of. Whenever he looked back to Jefferson, the man was always staring at him. Jefferson never looked around.

"Is there something you want, Hamilton?" Jefferson asked, no more than a whisper.

For a second, Alexander thought he meant about them. But there was no them. They were nothing to each other. Once he realized what Jefferson was talking about, he cleared his throat and had to figure out _why_ he grabbed him. He had a reason, didn't he?

"Um, you look stupid." Alexander muttered awkwardly. He knew his face was burning now. He looked away quickly and he was surprised how much effort it took him to pull his hand away from Jefferson's arm. When the world was grey again, Alex glanced up to see Jefferson was still watching him. Alex stumbled away, turning his back on his so-called soulmate.

* * *

"I don't think I can keep doing this, Jemmy." Thomas moaned, his face in his friend's chest. James' fingers carded through his hair rhythmically. Jefferson's arms were wrapped around the other man's waist. "He keeps _touching_ me!"

"Can you blame him?" James muttered, "...The colors are worth it."

"I know." Thomas sighed. "Especially when he blushes, Lord, it's the prettiest color I've ever seen, Jemmy."

James's fingers stilled, "It becomes easier if you, uh, have long times with the colors."

Thomas shifted, "What do you mean?"

James looked a bit uncomfortable, but he continued, "You know how soulmates have hours on end where they just… hold each other." James knew that if he didn't phrase it right, Thomas might realize why James constantly demanded century-long cuddle parties. "Well, the reason why they do that is because it's easier to deal with the greyness once the other is gone. Because you had such a long time with the colors. You don't need another fix so soon. Color Collecting, I think the kids are calling it these days."

Thomas blinked slowly, thinking about it. "And? What, you want me to propose this to Hamilton?"

"Yes."

"JemmyJames, you're insane." Thomas huffed, lifting his head to look at him. "He'd never go along with it. How'd I even suggest that, anyway?"

James shrugged, "It was just an idea, Thomas. You could do this, or you could keep having flashes of colors whenever one of you got the balls to brush against the other."

Jefferson sighed, resting his head against James' shoulder again, "You're a cruel man, Madison."

James hummed, his hand returning to his friend's hair. He absorbed the colors around him, knowing that once Jefferson leaves, he'll take them with him. These long exposures truly do help. At least, for him, they do.

* * *

Alexander was avoiding him. He had to. He couldn't be near him anymore. It was more than just a little incredibly distracting. Alex would see Jefferson down the hall and would immediately duck behind a corner and hide.

He refused to be obsessed with Thomas Jefferson, of all people. And he didn't need any of the colors in his life. He didn't.

He didn't!

* * *

Alexander was able to stay away from Jefferson for a solid day and a half. But his hands were shaking so bad that he couldn't write. He kept glancing up at his office door, hoping that the tall man would walk in.

Growling in frustration, Alexander huffed and stood up from his desk. He slumped out of his office and down the hall. He stood outside Jefferson's closed door, his breath short and needy. Slowly, he raised his hand. Before he knocked, he looked both ways down the hall to make sure no one was watching. When the coast was clear, Alex squeezed his eyes shut and knocked on the door.

There was a pause, and then a gruff, "Come in."

Alexander took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping into Jefferson's office. The man in question was leaning against his desk, his ankles crossed. His eyes widened slightly in surprise to see Alexander. Hamilton closed the door behind him, and the two quietly stared at each other. The air in the room grew electric as Hamilton swallowed thickly.

"Hamilton."

"Jefferson."

"What do you need?"

The words fell out of Alexander's mouth without his permission. He was going to say some excuse about an essay that needed revising or an order from Washington that was never given or maybe even a request to pass on a message to Madison, since the man doesn't like talking to him. But instead, he heard himself say, "Touch me."

Jefferson choked on his own breath, throwing him into a coughing fit. When he caught his breath, he looked a bit scared, as he said, "E-excuse me?!"

Alex stepped across the room reluctantly, chewing at his lower lip. "I… I can't focus. I can't work; I can't write. This… _thing_ has been distracting me. And…" He couldn't make eye contact as he whispered, "I need you to touch me."

Thomas was blinking rapidly, holding his breath, as Alex's gaze flicked back to him. Silently, Thomas nodded. Alex sighed deeply in relief and tried to not appear too eager as he invaded the other man's space.

The two just stood in front of one another, not yet touching, as they watched each other. Alex's hand was shaky as he held it out for Thomas. Jefferson's gaze stayed locked with Alex's as he raised his hand and gently brushed their fingers together.

Both of them sucked in a sharp breath as the colors appeared. Alex's eyes immediately flicked around Jefferson's office, committing each color to memory. After a moment, Jefferson shifted on his feet nervously, he cleared his throat. Alex's gaze flicked back to him; giving the other man his attention.

"So, um, I have a proposition for you." Jefferson started and he couldn't honestly tell you why he felt so nervous about this. But he shifted his shoulders, still touching fingers lightly with Alexander. "I suggest we, well, do this. Often. For long periods at a time."

"You want to Color Collect?" Alexander asked, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Jefferson grew defensive. He rolled his eyes, "If it means you stop grabbing me in the halls, then, yes, I do."

Hamilton's eyes grew distant and his cheeks started to color slightly. Jefferson watched as the gears in that brilliant mind turned. Hamilton glanced over his shoulder at the closed door behind them. Finally, he said, "Not here. There's too many people who could walk in. Besides, I'm busy. When I'm at work, I intend _to work_."

"Okay." Jefferson agreed. "That's fine. But not at your house. I'm sure it's small and trashy."

Hamilton scowled, but didn't object. "Then write down your address."

The fact that the two didn't stop touching even as Jefferson twisted around to scribble on a scrap of parchment was probably testament to how much they both needed it. Once Jefferson handed the address to Alexander, neither of them made any attempt to move away from the other. Their fingers stayed pressed together.

Thomas felt himself gravitate towards the shorter man. He didn't' know what would happen, if they stayed like this any longer. But there was a knock on the door and Jefferson pulled away from Hamilton so fast his world spun slightly. The door was grey when it opened behind them. Jefferson relaxed when it was just Madison.

"Am I interrupting something?" James asked, a strange mix of bitterness and smugness in his voice.

"No, no." Thomas said, only slightly shaky. "Hamilton was just leaving."

Alexander glanced at him, the address folded neatly in his palm, hidden from view. He turned and started towards the door, and then stopped when he was next to James. Alex turned back to Jefferson and said, "Will you be able to get that project we discussed done by seven tonight?"

"Nine." Jefferson squinted at him. There was no way he was letting Alexander stand on his doorstep during daylight. "It's a lot of work to do."

Alex scoffed but nodded. "Nine then."

James watched as the other man scrambled out in a hurry. He turned to Thomas and raised a single eyebrow in question. Jefferson sighed and sat back against his desk.

"JemmyJames, how do you feel about getting drinks tonight? At seven." He ran his hand through his hair, "I'm gonna make some mistakes tonight."

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

When it came time for Thomas to get ready for the, uh, Color Collecting with Hamilton, James had gathered up all the bottles of expensive alcohol he could find.

"I'll need this more than you will…" James said mournfully, swaying on his feet. He had had more to drink than Thomas, who was only slightly buzzed. His mind and body were relaxed enough to let this… _.thing_ happen, but he was sober enough to not let any unwanted thoughts slip past his lips. James, however, was on the good side of smashed. He leaned against Thomas, bottles of half-full liquor in his arms, bitterly saying, "Have fun with your newest _mistress_."

Jefferson rolled his eyes and gently pushed his friend out of his house. "Go home, Madison. Get some sleep."

As James stood on the porch and Thomas inside the doorway, he looked back at his now-grey friend. He hiccuped, "Why'd'ya always do that?"

"What?" Thomas asked, a slight frown on his face.

James couldn't think of the right words in his drunken mind, so he just waved at Thomas's grey face. "That."

Thomas shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about. Go drink some water."

"G'night Tom."

"Good night, JemmyJames."

Thomas closed the door and made his way to his closet. He changed his shirt, because James had spilled vodka on the one he was previously wearing in his attempt to climb into Thomas' lap. He decided his pants were fine and made his way to his bathroom to wash up a bit. It wasn't like he spent a good twenty minutes trying to fix his hair. Because he didn't. Definitely not. He didn't care what Hamilton thought of his hair. Not at all.

As Thomas was debating just putting it up in a bun, there was a knock on his door. Scrambling, he quickly let his hair down and brushed his fingers through it, figuring that would have to be enough. Then he ran to the door, composed himself for a second, and then slowly opened it.

Hamilton was looking away down the road, his hands in his pockets, a deep grey blush on his face. He had his hair down, which he never does, and was wearing a nice grey shirt. Thomas had to bit his cheek to keep from smiling.

"Well, come in." Thomas said as Alex looked up at him.

Alexander hesitantly stepped into the house, letting Thomas close the door behind him. Briefly, Alexander regretted his decision to not drink before this. He wanted to. For a long time, he sat in front of a tempting cheap jug of beer. But then he thought that Thomas would take one look at his drunken ass and send him home without even a brush of skin. So, he's going into this with no liquid courage at all.

"So, uh," Alexander said, clearing his throat, "How do you want to do this?"

Thomas glanced away, looking around his home, "Um… The couch?"

"It's kinda small…" Alex mumbled, another blush rising to his cheeks.

"It's not like we'll need much room, Hamilton." Thomas replied, but he couldn't keep eye contact with him. The two shuffled their feet, both feeling incredibly awkward and nervous, but neither could really tell you why. "Just - sit down."

So Hamilton sat on one side of the couch and Jefferson sat on the other. The two stared at each other, their shoulders tense. Slowly Alexander set his hand on the cushion between them. He looked away as Thomas just stared at the offering.

Jefferson's hand was shaking as he lightly set it on top of Hamilton's. The two simultaneously let out shuddering breaths as the colors appeared. Thomas stared down at his hand on top of Hamilton's. He admired the differences in their skin colors; the warmth under his fingers.

"What now?" Alex asked, his voice soft. Thomas looked up at him, the other man was chewing on his free thumb, his eyes on the window across the room. Jefferson swallowed hard at his profile, unable to look away.

"We just… wait."

"Until what?"

"You're satisfied."

Alexander turned to look at him then, lowering his hand away from his mouth. "...I've never been satisfied."

Thomas wanted to roll his eyes and scoff, but there was something about the way Alexander said that, soft and hesitant, like it was a terrible secret. It made something in Jefferson's chest stirr and he couldn't find it in himself to be mean right then. Instead, he nodded, a small smile on his lips, "That's okay."

Alex's shoulders relaxed, his gaze warming. "Okay."

They found themselves in this quiet moment, where they just stared at each other, absorbing as many colors as they could. Their hands were connected in the middle of the couch, while the rest of them was very carefully far away from each other. But in this moment, they didn't feel too far off. With small, shy smiles, they were very clearly right next to each other.

Eventually, Alex looked away, his eyes carefully cataloguing the rest of the colors in Jefferson's house. As always, Thomas only had eyes for Alexander.

Thomas' skin was buzzing with barely kept energy. Alexander was too far away. Thomas never truly had any feelings towards his couch one way or another. It was just a place to sit, sleep, and sometimes fuck. But as the minutes passed, Thomas felt an intense hatred for the middle cushion. It was a distinct barrier, one that shouldn't be crossed. Thomas wished he had a smaller couch.

When an hour passed, Thomas reluctantly removed his hand, washing them into a world of grey. Alex's head immediately whipped around to look at him, a question on his eyes.

"You haven't spoken in an hour. It's freaking me out." Thomas said, keeping his hand carefully in his lap. "Besides, I think you've been here long enough. Think you can last until tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow?" Alexander repeated hopefully, "Uh, yeah. I guess."

"Great." Jefferson said, keeping his eyes firmly forward. If he glanced over at Hamilton now, he wouldn't be sure if he could kick the other man out. "See you at work."

"Right." Alexander said, standing up. Jefferson, ever the gentleman, stood up with him and escorted him to the door. As he opened the door, he unthinkingly put a hand on Alex's lower back, to ease him towards the porch. The two stopped, shakily looking at one another in the low candlelight.

There was a soft warm glow as their eyes reflected the small flames. The shorter man's head tipped up slightly and Thomas' eyes widened, his breath getting caught in his throat. Alex blinked rapidly, realizing what he was doing. He scowled at himself, shaking his head, "Bye, Jefferson."

"Right, bye." Thomas said, dropping his hand, "Sorry."

"S'okay." Alex was looking away, a blush on his grey cheeks. His gaze flicked up, an uncertain smile on his lips, "An accident, right?"

"Right." Thomas breathed.

"Right." Alexander stumbled as he backed out of the house. He hissed out a cuss as he found his balance again. Embarrassed, he waved shortly and then quickly turned away, his head down and his hands in his pockets.

Thomas watched him go before ducking back into his house. His heart was racing and he honestly had no idea why. They didn't do anything! They just sat there for an hour! Their hands were barely touching! Why does Thomas' chest ache?

Jefferson strolled up to his liquor cabinet, thinking that some booze will help silence his thoughts. He scowled when he found it mostly empty, thanks to James Fucking Madison Jr.

* * *

At work the next day, Alexander was able to focus on his work. The Color Collecting was successful! Until he saw Jefferson in the hallway. Then, his focus disappeared like Charles Lee in the middle of a fight. Alex simply watched the other man as he walked, hand in hand, with James Madison. Something in the sight of it made Alex's stomach do two strange things.

The first was that his stomach swooped up to join his heart in a jovial dance. The second was that his stomach then dived down to his feet, to trip him up and make him simply stand there, and stare.

Because that was Thomas Jefferson. And he was so close, just a few feet away. But he was getting further away with each step. And the only one who was allowed to touch him was James Madison. Even though, according to the stars, God, and fate itself, that Jefferson technically belonged to Hamilton.

The thought tugged on his mind all day. He wished it didn't, because he truly wanted to get work done. But it appeared to be his third day in a row with poor results, because by the end of the day; he had only finished one essay.

Alexander cussed himself as he walked the empty halls of the White House. It was his fault that he was in this situation. If he hadn't jumped on Jefferson, he wouldn't have known. He would have lived in blissful ignorance. But no, the man just had to irritate him into action.

If Alexander could only control his temper...

"Hamilton." A delicious southern drawl called. Alexander turned to see Jefferson and Madison, blowing out the candles near their offices. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Wordlessly, Alexander nodded. Because even as he burned with hatred and jealousy, he still knew that if he pushed this _thing_ away, it would only get worse.

He was blessed with a warm smile that had a shiver running down Alexander's spine, "I'll see y'all then."

If Alexander could only control his temper, then he wouldn't ever in his life see such a beautiful sight.

* * *

They were sitting next to each other this time; middle couch cushion be damned. Their shoulders were brushing, their knees were bumping, but still they found the need to clasp hands. They haven't intertwined their fingers yet. That was something only Madison could do.

They were still just as awkward and nervous as the last time. They spent a majority of the time adamantly not speaking. There was something strange building in Hamilton's chest.

A need for _more_.

Clearly, he had grown agitated of just sitting on a couch for another hour. Still with clasped hands, Hamilton stood up. Jefferson's eyes widened in confused alarm. Was he leaving? So soon? It had barely been ten minutes? Did he not want to do this anymore?

"I need to move." Hamilton said.

Jefferson relaxed and rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

"I can't just sit here for another hour. I'm bored!" Alex whined, just barely stopping himself from childishly stomping his foot.

"Well, we're not going outside." Jefferson hissed. There was a sharp pang in Alex's chest at that. But he knew it was just because he wanted to wander around. "So, just, read a book or something."

"I read for a job. I write for a job. I've done plenty of that for today." Hamilton said, even though he truly read very little and wrote even less. He couldn't focus on his work when there was a beautiful man with even more mesmerising colors inside him just a few rooms away. "I want to do something else."

"Hamilton refusing to write," Thomas mused, "I never thought I'd see the day."

Alexander stuck out his tongue, "Anything for you, dear."

Jefferson sighed and stood up to distract himself from how his heart skipped a beat at the sound of the petname. "Fine, I'll… show you around my home."

Was it weird that Alex was a bit excited about that? He grinned in triumph and Thomas returned his smile. But just for a moment, then it flicked away and was replaced with an uninterested scowl.

"So, this is the mainroom." He gestured with his free hand. "You've seen it."

"Yes, it's quite lovely to stare at for an hour." Alexander deadpanned.

"Shut the fuck up." Thomas muttered back, leading him through a wide doorway, "Here's the kitchen."

It was unnecessarily lavish. Alexander angrily tightened his grip on Thomas's hand and was surprised when the other man's thumb brushed against the back of his hand soothingly.

"I hardly use it. I never have time. I really only cook when I'm in Monticello." Thomas said, almost apologetically. "This way to the dining room."

It was a long table, able to fit ten people; more if everyone gave up elbow room. There was a candlelit chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a large dish cabinet in the corner. The entire place appeared to be untouched. Despite that, it was still gorgeous in color.

"I take it you never use this room either?" Alexander said, glancing at a cobweb in the chandelier. Thomas bumped his shoulder good naturedly.

"No, never found a reason to. I offered to host a party once for Washington, but he refused." Thomas shot him a teasing glare, "Some _little brat_ talked him out of it."

"I think the words you were trying to say was _selfless hero_." Alexander quipped. Hamilton almost tripped over his own feet when Thomas laughed at that. Not a cruel, vindictive laugh, but a genuine, joyful laugh. Alex's legs stopped moving and he turned to watch the other man.

His head was thrown back, his neck exposed as his hair bounced with each inhale. His lips were spread wide in a smile and he had a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. His hand gripped Alexander's tighter, his whole body practically gravitating closer to the shorter man.

When he caught his breath, he smiled down at Alexander, his eyes half-lidded and sparkling. "I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard. Alexander, you're a riot."  
Alex just blinked helplessly up at Jefferson, trying to see around the hearts in his eyes. He let out a weak, "Shut up," but the other man didn't react to it. The two stared at each other; their gazes dancing from one spot to another before slowly waltzing down to each other's lips. Alexander swallowed hard as Thomas let out a soft exhale on his cheek. A caramel hand made it's way to Alex's cheek and he couldn't help but lean into the warmth of it, closing his eyes for just a second.

Thomas practically dies right there, the sight of Alexander, his Alexander, lovingly turning his cheek against his hand to press a small kiss to his palm, good Lord Almighty, it almost kills him. Alex's beautiful brown eyes flutter open shyly as he gazes up at Thomas. Jefferson smiles, leaning forward. His thumb brushes soothingly along Alex's cheek.

"What the fuck is that?"

Hamilton's gaze is over his shoulder. He's lost the other man's attention. Fuck.

Thomas shook his head, reminding himself who he was dealing with. This wasn't James or some pretty maiden. This was fucking Hamilton. He shouldn't, he doesn't, enjoy this. Scowling, he turned to look at where Alexander was staring.

"That would be my bed, Hamilton. I'm sure even you can afford one." Thomas drawled, annoyed that _this_ is what interrupted them.

Alexander scoffed and pulled Thomas down the hall to the bed. "No, I mean, why the _hell_ is it in the middle of the hallway?"

"It fit." Thomas replied, shrugging. Only now could he tell how pretty his dark maroon sheets were. Previously, he just picked them because of their sation touch. But now he could see that even color blind, he has impressive sense of style.

Alexander couldn't stop staring at the stupid fucking bed. It was in the middle of the hallway, it's pillows touching one wall; the end of it touching another. There was no room to go around it; nor was there any purpose for it to be here. This wasn't a bedroom, it was a hallway. And on the other side of the hall was, "Is that you're office?"

"Yes. I wrote the Declaration of Independence in there."

"Behind your bed."  
"Clearly."

"Thomas, what the fuck?"

"Impress them with your love making, then woo them with your law creating." Thomas grinned down at Hamilton, his eyes full of mirth. Alexander actually laughed, leaning against Thomas as he did so. Their hands were still firmly clasped together by the end of the tour. Throughout the rest of it, Hamilton would start giggling again, thinking of the bed in the middle of the hall.

When Thomas started becoming itchy, wanting to do more, touch more, say more, he knew it was time to kick Alexander out. The other man nodded, his smile falling slightly.

"Thanks for showing me around." He said simply. "Can we, um, do this again tomorrow?"

Thomas leaned against his doorframe, his hand still connected to Alexander's. "You need this again? Three nights in a row?"

"W-well, I was just thinking," Alexander licked his lips and Thomas relished in the sight of that little pink appendage. "For the good of our country, we should keep doing this. Every night."

Thomas blinked slowly, unimpressed, "You're going to have to explain what's going on in that crowded brain of yours."

"Bare with me," Alex said, raising his free hand in a placating manner, "I've still had trouble at work since this … _thing_ happened. If I can't do my work right then our newborn country will fall into political chaos. I need to be able to help our president and create a sound financial set up that will be beneficial for all in the upcoming years and I can't do that if I'm busy thinking about colors all day."  
Thomas rubbed his forehead, sensing an oncoming headache, "And the way you want to fix that, is by coming over to my house every night, to hold hands."

"Color Collect!" Alex was quick to correct, his cheeks turning a bright pink. "I just need to get the colors out of my system, and then I'll be okay."

"I'm not sure." Thomas didn't know if he could handle being this close to his soulmate every night. And with nothing to show for it. Not even a single kiss!

"It was your idea in the first place." Alexander reminded him.

"You weren't supposed to _like_ it!" Thomas cries, his expression somewhat pained.

"Hey, that is _not_ what is happening here! I do _not_ like anything about this!" Hamilton argued, his ears burning as blood rushed through them.

"Fine, whatever!" Thomas let out a long suffering sigh and stepped back into his house, keeping his hand attached to Hamilton's. The other man had to step forward to keep the contact. Thomas returned a second later with a key.

"If you're going to be here every night, you might as well have this." Thomas sounded annoyed, but his heart was speeding up with every second. "Don't lose it, it's my last copy."

"Last copy?" Alex questioned the phrasing.

"James has the other." Thomas shrugged and Alexander bit his cheek to keep from saying anything that would give his jealousy away. "But, uh, don't just come around whenever you want, alright?"

Alexander scoffed, holding the key so tightly it dug into his skin, "Like I would want to be near you any more than necessary."

"Go away, Hamilton."

Alexander smiled as he slowly removed his hand and they were washed into darkness. Thomas watched him walk away, a soft smile on his face.

* * *

Alexander was halfway through his second essay. It was a slow pace, he knew, but it was the best he could do while Thomas's key was in his coat pocket. He could feel it in there, waiting, promising something wonderful. Alex's hand had stopped writing a while ago, as he sat there, staring at the parchment, thinking.

Maybe one day Alexander would walk into Thomas' house and the other would pick him up. It would be easy with Alex's small size and Thomas's strength. Color would explode around them, but neither of them would see it because they would be too busy kissing each other. Their beards would scrape against one another's skin softly, and their hands would be frantically shucking off their clothes. Thomas would carry him through his house, kissing him the entire way. And he'd make it to that stupid bed in the middle of the hall.

Gently, he'd lay Hamilton down, like he was something precious. He'd crawl on top of him, never once letting the colors leave their sight. And he'd kiss his way down Hamilton's naked body, look up at him and whisper-

"Helloooo? Mon ami?"

Alexander snapped out of his daydream, jerking forward. As he did so, he spilt ink all over his essay, ruining it. Now he'd have to start again. Sighing in frustration he looked up and felt his tension ease away.

"Lafayette!" Alex jumped up from his chair and walked around his desk to hug his friend, careful not to get any ink of him. "I didn't see you come in."

"Yes, I could tell." Laf grinned, winking as he said, "You're mind was elsewhere, no?"

Alex blushed slightly at the frankly upsetting thoughts he was having, "I was just thinking about… colors." It was a half-truth at least.

That made Laf's eyes widen with surprise, "You? Alexander Hamilton? Thinking about colors? Impossible!"

"Possible." Alexander sounded defeated. "It's been, huh, a bit overwhelming. But forget about me, why are you here? When did you get back to America?"

"I am just here on business and a short visit to see Hercules and yourself. I may stop by to see Washington and Thomas Jefferson as well." The Frenchman explained.

"Thomas? Why Thomas?" Alexander felt something strange edge into his voice. Apprehension? Jealousy? Confusion? He couldn't tell.

Laf nodded, not noticing or not caring of Alex's strange tone. "Oui, the two of us became very good friends in France. You have met him, I assume? He tells me in his letters that he works for Washington."

Hamilton felt slightly numb as he said, "Yes, I might have spoken with him once or twice."

"He is a very good man." Lafeyette, always the gossip, sits on Hamilton's desk and exclaimed, "But enough about me and my friends, my friend, tell me about you and the colors!"

"Oh." Alexander rubs his neck slightly, looking away, "I was just, um, you know, imagining them. And all that."

"But you never cared for them before." Lafayette leaned forward, observing Hamilton closely. "What has changed?" Alex stared down at his feet, his face growing a dark grey, as he spoke very quietly. Laf put a hand up to his ear, "Hm? I cannot hear you, monsieur."

"I've seen the colors!" Alexander shouted. He flinched at the silence that followed and was quick to fill it. "I've seen the colors. My soulmate, I've met them. They're, god they're destroying my life. But I can't stop myself from getting sucked into it all. It's so _nice_ and _good_ around them, except when they're being a total _dick_ , but even then, I still kinda like it? And _as soon as_ they make me leave each night, I immediately start missing them. And I imagine what it would be like just to sleep next to them; to be held by them..."

"Mon dieu." Lafayette whispered, "Alexander, you're in love."

"I know, I know," he replied, breathless. "I'm trying not to be."

"You cannot not be in love when you already are." Laf scoffed at him. "You simply have to love loving the love you love."

"Say love one more time, I dare you." Alex was pouting, his arms crossed. Laf laughed at him and gently kicked him with his boot.

"Tell me about the colors." Laf requested. Unbeknownst to Alexander, the Frenchman had still yet to see any colors. The man was perhaps never going to find his soulmate and he was alright with that. He learned from others what the colors looked like; what it felt like. Laf was sure he wouldn't need anything more in his life.

"They're extraordinary," Alexander thought for a moment. "Well, I only get to see them when we accidentally touch. Or during our, um, scheduled meetings." Alex looked away as he said the last bit.

Lafayette raised an eyebrow, "Scheduled…? OH! Are you speaking of the Hue Hugs?"

"Hue Hugs?" Alexander stared at his friend in confusion.

Laf nodded excitedly, "Oui! Soulmates who hug for long times to see the hues of life!"

"We call it Color Collecting." Alexander said. "Hue Hug sounds like a disease."

Laf laughed and stuck out his tongue. Then his smile fell slightly, "Alexander, Hue Hugging, Color Collecting, whatever it may be, it is a very intimate time, no? You share a very special moment with the other person as you do so. Some say it is better than - far more exposing than sex."

"They're wrong." Hamilton snorted. "The colors are … indescribable, but I think I'd still prefer sex over this."

At least with sex, he knows where his partner stands. Sex is a mutual practice where both parties want to get and receive blissful satisfaction. This soulmate business is like a gamble, nothing is concrete. With Jefferson, everything is up in the air. The unknowingness of it all terrifies him.

"Are you not satisfied?" Laf asked, reaching out for his friend.

Alexander looked out his window, his reflection stared back at him. It was hungry for more; desperate to feel Thomas' skin on his. His eyes burned at all the grey around him. He needed a spark of color. Just a bit. Just a little more and then he could stop.

Alex was still watching his reflection as he replied, "Never."

* * *

Thomas was looking at the wall, keeping his mouth shut as his heart was pounding. There was a deep blush in his cheeks. Because not only was Alexander sitting on his couch once again, but the other man had slid himself right next to Jefferson's side, worming himself under the other man's arm. Thomas had his arm around Hamilton. He never thought that would happen.

The other man had let himself into his home, threw himself on the couch like he lived there, and proceeded to complain about everything under the sun. Thomas honestly couldn't tell you what was coming out of Hamilton's mouth. All he could focus on was the warm body pressed against his.

When Thomas finally calmed down his racing heart enough to actually look at Alexander, he let out a soft sigh. His hand moved from Alex's shoulder to thread through his hair. Alex's words sputtered to a stop as his head tipped back into the touch. Soon Alex was completely quiet, enjoying the feeling of fingers running through his hair.

"I never knew you liked your hair being played with." Thomas hummed, nudging Alexander's head closer to his shoulder. Hamilton complied, resting his cheek against the other man.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Hamilton mumbled, his voice soft and sleepy.

Thomas watched him for a moment, there was a hesitancy in his voice when he said, "So tell me."

Alex hummed thoughtfully for a moment before saying, "I got a bad past. Not sure if you want to hear about it right now."

Thomas could hear the words that weren't being said. Hamilton wasn't saying that Thomas wouldn't want to hear it. He's saying that he doesn't want to tell it. Thomas nodded, "Okay. Something else then…. Would you ever want kids?"

It was the first question that came to his mind. Both men blushed at the implications of it.

Hamilton cleared his throat, shifting closer to Thomas. "Of course. As many as I can, I suppose."

"Daughters or sons?"

"I'd want a son." Alexander replied almost immediately, as if he's thought about it.

"Yeah? Why's that?" Thomas tucked his chin down to catch Alex's expression.

Alexander sighed, "I don't want a daughter because she'd inherit my whorishness. And that would be unfit of a lady."

The hand in Alex's hair froze. "...You do sleep around a lot, don't you?"

Alexander's voice grew bitter and his hands that were resting in his lap clenched into fists. "Well, I don't have my own Madison to take care of my urges, so, yes, I find other ways."

"Madison? Urges? What the-" Thomas pulled away to look down at Hamilton, who was adamantly looking away. "Madison and I haven't ever had sex, if that's what you're implying."

"...You haven't?" Alex's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as his eyes flicked up to study his face.

"God no! Why would you-? He's a friend, a bother, he's not- God damn, Hamilton." Thomas felt like laughing. Him and James? That would never happen. Thomas saw nothing more than a very close friend in the other man.

Alexander looked away again, an angry blush on his cheeks, "Well, you two seem pretty touchy…. What have you done together?"

"Nothing!" Thomas said, his voice rising slightly, "I mean, sometimes when we're drunk, we make out. But it never goes farther than that, and I'm always thinking about yo-oorktown. I'm thinking about Yorktown."

Hamilton raised an eyebrow at him, "You think about Yorktown when you drunkenly kiss James Madison Jr.?"

"...Yes…"

"What the fuck."

"Shut the fuck up you little gremlin." Thomas muttered as he pulled Alex's head back to resting on his shoulder, his hand returning its soothing ministrations through his hair. Alex relaxed again after a moment and sighed softly against Thomas' neck.

"So you've kissed Madison." Alex sighed, somewhat upset. "Any other glorious endeavors?"

Thomas snorted, "I had a few admirers in France. Had an adult slumber party or two."

Alexander chuckled, his hand coming up to trace mindless patterns on Thomas' chest. The touch of it made the air in Jefferson's lungs lighten. A goofy smile tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the tan fingers.

"No girlfriends? Or boyfriends?" Alexander asked.

"Not particularly. I had a girl that I kept close for a little while. Sally. Pretty young thing. But I assure you her company stopped once the sun came up." Thomas thought about his favorite slave fondly. "But no, I wouldn't say I had any constant partners in the past few years."

Alexander thought about that for a moment. He didn't mind so much that Thomas was just as much of a whore as himself. He certainly felt better knowing that Thomas wasn't fucking Madison.

"What about you?" Thomas asked. "Any partners?"

"No." Alex replied easily.

"No what? No recently or no that matter or-" Thomas waved his free hand vaguely.

"No no." Alex ground his teeth slightly. "I've never had a partner. Just random prostitutes."

Thomas turned to look at him, "...What?"

"I've never had a romantic partner. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, no nothing." Alex repeated, his cheeks starting to burn. "I just- never needed one."

Jefferson frowned slightly, "But… did you _want_ one?"

"I mean… sometimes." Alex shrugged slightly, unable to make eye contact. "My work was always more important. My life was more important. I had to learn how to fend for myself."

Thomas watched him carefully, his lips spoke the words he wasn't planning on saying, "You don't have to anymore. You're not alone anymore."

A shiver ran through Alexander's spine. He hid his face against Thomas' shoulder, an emotional smile peeking out past his lips. The two were quiet for a moment. Then Thomas said thoughtfully, "So you've only kissed prostitutes."

Hamilton hummed. "Not on the lips."

Jefferson blinked rapidly for a few seconds, his mind halting at that. "What?"

"I don't kiss their lips." Alex was blushing slightly, wearing a small pout. "Sometimes they ask me not to. Sometimes I ask them not to. It just makes things messy."

Thomas was staring at Hamilton's profile, "So you've never…?"

Alex squirmed uncomfortably, "Look, if you're going to make fun of me, just be quick about it."

"No, I'm just surprised the tomcat hasn't kissed anyone before." Thomas shrugged, "I'm just- surprised."

Hamilton looked away, embarrassed. He quietly mumbled, "I just never cared about that kind of stuff."

Thomas tucked Alexander's head under his chin. "That's alright. I won't tell anyone."

"Really?" Alexander's voice shook slightly.

"Yeah." Thomas replied. "Some people do the same thing, anyway. Wait for their soulmate."

Alexander looked away, his heart conflicting, "Right."

* * *

Alexander was staring at his work. He wasn't really able to write anything. Instead, he kept thinking back to last night, to what Thomas said. About how people wait for their soulmate. Sure, he had had sex, but in a way, his lips were still saved for them. Was that what he was doing the entire time? Saving his first kiss for them? Would that mean he was waiting for Thomas?

No, no that's not what he was doing. None of that is what he was doing. He just doesn't like the idea of kissing strangers. Sex is fine, but kissing is where he draws the line. Did that make him weird?

No, sex is an outlet for him. For when he needs to relax and stop worrying about work. Kissing is an unnecessary step in that process. It's just a build up to the main event. You don't need it to actually have sex. You don't need it at all. Here's nothing wrong with not kissing anyone. Hamilton knew that when he was fourteen and he knows it now. This whole thing has nothing to do with Thomas Jefferson.

God, why does all of his thoughts lead back to Jefferson?

"Hamilton!" A man poked his head into his office. Someone Alexander didn't recognize, but clearly was below him in the political ranking, "President Washington has summoned you to his office, effective immediately."

Alexander blew out a long breath. Okay, time to talk to dad. Great.

When Hamilton slipped into Washington's office, closing the door behind him, he wasn't expecting to see Thomas standing there, waiting for him. Alexander shot him a confused look. The other man appeared on edge, but was trying to hide it. But Hamilton saw how his fingers were twitching behind his back, his hands fighting against each other. When did Alexander learn Jefferson's tells?

"Sir." Alexander greeted the president, who looked up from where he was working. "Is something wrong?"

Washington looked back down at his paperwork and shortly said, "A moment, Hamilton."

Something was very wrong, then. Alexander slowly strode up to stand beside Jefferson, his eyes flicking towards the other man with confused anxiety. What could they have done wrong? They haven't gotten in another fist fight since that first time. They still argued like cats and dogs, but they weren't that disruptive about it anymore. Was Washington firing them? Had he found two men who could work together to be his second in commands? Alexander's heart and mind were in a race to see which could make him panic faster.

And suddenly, in a flash of color, Alexander's mind grew silent. There was a small finger, a pinkie, curling around his own. Alex glanced over at Thomas, who was staring straight ahead. The other man had reached out for him. Alex swallowed quietly as he looped his own pinkie around Thomas'. Their world was washed with color now as they stood silently, side by side, just barely touching.

Finally, Washington set down his quill and stood up. He let out a long sigh and then said to them, "What's wrong with you two?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Alexander asked, "You'll have to be a bit more specific. I have a list of at least 75 things wrong with Jefferson."

The pinkie in his grip tightened against his slightly. Alexander couldn't tell if it was in warning or amusement. Washington rolled his eyes, walking around his desk to loom over them. He seemed far more threatening in color.

"Your work production has dropped suddenly and drastically. Thomas you are our best worker, second only to you, Alexander. Why has both of your well-respected work ethics disappeared?"

Alexander shot Thomas a surprised look. The other man was also having trouble concentrating? Why didn't he say anything about this?

Alex looked back at the president, addressing him formally, "Sir, I have just had a lot on my mind lately. More than usual. I apologize that it has impeded my work."

"You do realize how important your essays are for this country, right?" Washington said, almost patronizingly, "The Declaration of Independence, the Federalist Papers, these works do not go unnoticed. Surely, I do not have to reiterate the gravity of making sure you don't convert to brevity."

"Yes, sir. I've been working on finding a solution to this … issue." Alexander could've sworn Thomas just flinched. "It becomes difficult for me to ignore a thought once I have it, though."

Washington rubbed his forehead, exasperated, "Yes, I'm well aware, son. Just, get your work done."

"Yes, sir." Alexander forces himself to remain eye contact, even though all he wants to do is look away from Washington's disappointed gaze. "I humbly apologize for the inconvenience. I will have all of my late work done and on your desk by tomorrow morning."

Washington glanced over to Thomas, who had remained silent the entire time. "What do you have to say for yourself, Jefferson?"

"My allowance of such a distraction was a mistake, sir." Thomas said, his voice somewhat hollow. "I sincerely apologize."

Washington observed them for a moment, letting his authority hang in the air for a moment before he turned away, dismissing them wordlessly. "See to it doesn't happen again."

Thomas let go of Hamilton's pinkie as soon as the words left Washington's lips. By the time Alexander turned around, Jefferson was gone, the office door left ajar. Alex jogged into the hall to see his soulmate's form disappearing behind a corner.

Alex slowly turned back to walk to his office. He had so much work to do.

* * *

Thomas was avoiding him. Of course he was. After what he heard Hamilton say to the president, how couldn't he? He was fine with the somewhat barbing joke about Jefferson having lots of things wrong with himself. That was just their usual banter. Nothing wrong with that. No, it was how Hamilton called their, what, relationship? He described it to the president as an issue. One that needed to be fixed.

And just when Jefferson thought they might be getting somewhere.

But no, clearly all Thomas was to Alexander was another distraction. Jefferson read his report from when he was just a teenager, cynical and naive. He knew Hamilton's stance on soulmates. And yet, he thought he could change that. He thought he could be good for Alexander, and vise versa. But no… but no.

He was an issue.

He's always been an issue.

* * *

Alexander doesn't go to Thomas's house that night. He stays home and writes everything he needs in order to please his boss. How could he be so stupid? How could he have lost track of what was really important?

A garden doesn't grow if you don't plant anything to begin with.

When Hamilton finishes his already due work, his gaze lingers on the key sitting on the table. His hands grow itchy with beads of sweat. He could still go over. It isn't too late.

Alexander shakes his head and grabs a new parchment. There's always more seeds to plant. He always has more work to do.

* * *

Thomas didn't want Hamilton to show up. He didn't. He wasn't sitting on his couch, staring at his front door, waiting for a key to slot into place and slide open. He wasn't drinking his best scotch, longing for warmth and colors. He wasn't.

And when he was sure Hamilton wasn't going to show up, he certainly didn't get his drunk ass up and stumble his way to James' house. When his friend asked him if he was alright, he didn't break down on the other man's shoulder.

Thomas didn't look up into James' eyes, trying to see behind tears. He didn't hold the other man's cheeks in his palms. He didn't smash their lips together in a desperate need for comfort. He didn't push James down on his friend's bed. His fingers didn't creep under James' shirt, exposing grey flesh.

He didn't let James roll them over when he started sobbing harshly. He didn't let James hold him tightly as the other man brushed away tears and brought forth pleasure. He didn't beg James for more. His sobs didn't turn into grateful moans. He didn't think about brown eyes and a snarky smile the entire time.

He didn't.

* * *

This continues for an unspeakable amount of time. The two never explicitly said that they weren't doing whatever it was they were doing anymore. They both just sort of knew. Hamilton was too busy burying himself in work. Thomas was too busy burying himself in James.

When Washington praised both of them on getting their work done in remarkable time and solving whatever problems they had, neither of them were all that enthusiastic about it. It did not go unnoticed.

"Hamilton." Another nameless voice with a nameless face said, "Washington wishes to speak with you, immediately."

Alexander was tired; his eyes were sore, his shoulders were tight, his mouth felt dry and his fingers burned from writing too much. But he marched to Washington's office, held his head as high as he could and said with as much self-respect as he could muster, "Have I done something wrong, sir?"  
"On the contrary," Washington said, closing his office door behind Hamilton. "I've called you here because your mental state is beyond scary."

"Sir?" Alex couldn't even find it in himself to raise an eyebrow. He stared straight ahead, a deep pain constantly thrumming in his chest.

"When's the last time you smiled, son?" Washington asked gently, walking around him to look him in the eye.

Alex blinked, unfazed, "I don't know, sir. Many days, I suppose."

"Alexander, son, I'm worried for you-"

"Have I not be doing as well as you asked, sir?" Alex asked with a slight bit of bite in his tone.

Washington tilted his head, "No, your work ethic is impeccable. But you've become a corpse possessed by your own ghost. You need to take a break. You need some peace."

"I find peace in my work, sir." Alexander's voice was so dull, so flat and defeated. Nothing like the fiery passion that constantly spewed from those immigrant lips.

Washington huffed out a sigh, "That's a lie and we both know it."

"Partial lie." Hamilton admitted, his gaze flicking down for the first time since he entered the room.

Washington put his hand on Alexander's shoulder, "What's wrong, son?"  
Alexander couldn't stop the tear that ripped it's way from his eye; he couldn't stop the gross, pained, howl that left his lungs; he couldn't stop the way he crumpled against the president of the United States of America; how he fell apart in the Oval Office.

He couldn't stop the way Thomas made him feel.

* * *

It was none other than future president James Madison Jr., who finally pushed them into a closet together. James was conflicted.

He adored the sudden attention he was receiving from Thomas. He craved the colors his friend was willingly giving him. He relished in the heated nights they spent together.

But he hated the way Thomas would drink himself stupid. He despised the way his friend would cry until his voice was hoarse and his eyes were red. He loathed how Thomas had to bite the back of his hand, so he wouldn't scream out the wrong name at the end of the night.

Eventually, James had to finally admit that this man wasn't his. And never truly would be.

So, he waited until it was late at night and they were both working late. He convinced Thomas to meet him by the supply closet. Sneaking up behind the emotionally drained man and pushing him into the small room was the simple part. Now the harder part was convincing Hamilton to leave his office before midnight.

"I thought Washington left hours ago." Hamilton said skeptically, but followed him anyway.

"Yes, well, he came back." James coughed into his handkerchief, "Just hurry up. I don't want to be here any longer than you do."

Hamilton scoffed, but didn't object. Perhaps that was an example of how truly exhausted he was. James stopped in front of the closet, turning to look at the other man.

"Have you been crying?" He asked, frowning in a small resemblance of concern. This was his soulmate's soulmate, after all. It would be bad if he suddenly died of heartbreak or something.

Alexander shrugged, looking away, "Where's Washington?"

"Oh, right." James pulled open the closet door suddenly and pushed Hamilton inside. The immigrant crashed to the ground, landing at the feet of Thomas Jefferson. They both stared at the other, wide-eyed. Something akin to fear flashed in their eyes as they looked back at James, who was closing the door.

"James!"

"Madison!"

 _Slam. Click._

They were locked inside. Alexander scrambled to his feet, keeping his distance as best as he could. "Look, I don't want any arguments. I just want to go back to work."

"Well, good, because I don't want to be near you anyway." Thomas crossed his arms and looked at the dark grey wall.

"Good."

"Good."

They slowly glanced back at each other. Neither one knew who reached forward first. But they were suddenly in each other's arms. Alexander couldn't tell who was shaking more. Thomas practically curled himself around the smaller man, cocooning him in a protective shield of warmth.

"Jesus Christ, I missed you."

"I know, I know, shhh…"

"The colors, I mean."

"Shh, I know, I know."

They slid to the ground at some point, Thomas pulling Alexander into his lap. They didn't kiss. They didn't talk. They didn't do anything sexy or conventionally intimate. They just held each other; felt the warmth of the other's body against theirs. They just sighed against each other's skin, breathing in each other's smells.

They just clutched at each other until their muscles relaxed. After endless hours of stress and longing, they both were finally able to let down their guards.

"I gave you a key." Thomas finally whispered, his lips on Alexander's shoulder. "I thought you'd come."

"You ran out of Washington's office so quickly." Alexander said into Thomas' neck. "I thought you didn't want to see me anymore."

Jefferson let out a small, sad laugh, "I _crave_ you."

A shudder ran through Alex's body. How often do you hear someone say they _crave_ you? People tell you they love you all the time. But to be craved, to be needed and sought after, that's something entirely different. What made it truly different for Alexander was that he related to that one sentence more than anything else he had ever heard.

"Jesus, I crave you, too." Alexander replied, his fingers clutching against Thomas' back. Emotion was growing in his chest, making his voice shake, "I was itching for you, needing you every second of the day. But you were just suddenly gone. Why did you leave?"

"Shh, I'm here now." Thomas said, leaning back so he could look into Alexander's brown eyes in the low light, "I'm here now. I- I want you to come home with me."

"W-what?" Alexander started shaking in his hands, his eyes wide and darting back and forth between Thomas' gaze.

Thomas rested his forehead against Alexander's, "Please, come home with me."

Alexander swallowed hard, "O-okay."

Thomas pressed a chaste kiss to his nose, smiling warmly at him. Then, loud and threatening, he said, "James, you better still be out there."

A pause; Thomas and Alexander held their breaths in anticipation.

 _Click._

Thomas stood up with Alexander still in his arms. The smaller man allowed himself to be carried out of the closet by his political rival. He didn't care how James raised an eyebrow at him. He didn't care how his body made him blush a light pink. All he cared about was the warm hands under his legs and around his back. All he focused on was the beating heart under his ear and the soft skin of a neck against his forehead.

All he noticed was Thomas.

* * *

Alexander spent the night. Neither felt exactly horny when they got back to Thomas' home. They didn't start kissing each other furiously; ripping clothes and stumbling to bed. It wasn't like how you would expect.

Thomas carried Alexander to his bed.

"It's still in the middle of the hall." Alexander commented tiredly, his arms were wrapped around Thomas' shoulders.

Thomas gently laid him down on the bed, like he was breakable, but worth not breaking. He smiled down at him, "Yes, love. I wasn't going to move it just because you thought it's positioning was dumb."

"Incredibly dumb." Hamilton nodded, reaching up to tug Thomas down with him. Thomas chuckled softly, a warm sound that sent butterflies swarming in Alexander's stomach.

"Just a moment, darling." Jefferson carefully started undressing Hamilton to make him more comfortable for bed. It wasn't so he could get the other man naked. It wasn't so they could go at it like wild animals. It was just because his work clothes would be too hot and cumbersome for sleep.

Once he was done with Hamilton, Jefferson undressed himself down to his undergarments. Then, he climbed into his bed next to Alexander, who immediately sucked himself up against Thomas's side, engulfing them in colors.

Alex hid his face in the junction of Thomas' shoulder and neck. His arms wrapped around Thomas' waist and his leg wormed it's way around Thomas' calf. Thomas sighed in content at the perfect puzzle piece fit this position felt like. He's _never_ felt this comfortable with James.

Thomas' hand found it's way into Hamilton's hair, carefully releasing it of it's bun. They laid in silence for a while, simply staring at the colors of each other. Thomas couldn't tell you how much time passed until Alexander spoke up.

His voice was quiet, sleepy, but insecure. "Thomas?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Will you still … crave me … when the sun comes up?"

Thomas stilled, thinking about the raw emotion in his soulmate's voice, rather than the words themselves. "...Will you?"

"Undoubtedly." Alexander replied instantly, sinking closer to Thomas' side.

Thomas smiled to himself, his hand resuming in its calming movements, "Yes, darling. I'll crave you until my last breath."

"Hmmm." Alexander sighed happily against his chest, "I'm sure I'll crave you until I've satisfied this need deep in me."

Thomas shook his head, "Alexander, you're never satisfied."

"...Exactly."

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the soft words that were said under the cover of darkness, when Thomas opened his eyes in the morning, Alexander was gone. He tried to not feel the overwhelming sense of dread pound down on him as he stared at the grey sunlight. Leave it Thomas Jefferson to believe sweet sleepy nothings and then get his heart ripped out once the colors faded.

Sighing exhaustedly, he glanced over at the grey pillow that once rested Hamilton's head. Sitting innocently on top of it was a folded piece of paper.

Blinking, Thomas reached for it, his muscles stretching pleasurably as he did so.

 _Jefferson,_

 _I have a meeting at dawn. I'll see you later?_

 _\- A. Ham_

At least he left a note. An explanation as to why he disappeared before Thomas could so much as wish him a good morning. Maybe he was telling the truth? Maybe he didn't regret anything?

Thomas scoffed at himself. This wasn't even a morning after kind of thing. It's more like a sleepover. Or, or letting a stray dog to stay on your porch for a the night when it's raining.

Still, it felt incredibly cruel and _painfully_ unfair that Alexander was allowed to wake up and see the warm sunlight in its full color, while Thomas was forced to open his eyes, _once again_ , to a world of grayscale.

Last night, he had allowed himself to hope that he would never happen again.

* * *

"I feel like this is Stockholm Syndrome." Hercules said as he took a swig of coffee. Alexander just went through everything that had happened. Herc was only in town for a while, dropping off and picking up supplies and outfits. Alexander and he had unfortunately fallen out of touch, so Alex had to quickly fill him in on the Jefferson Thing. "I mean, it's _Jefferson_. You've always hated him and now you're addicted to his touch. That sounds _super_ Stockholmy to me."

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. "No, it's not like that. He- I feel... safe with him."

"And that's why you ran out of his bed this morning?" Hercules asked with a doubtful look in his eye.

Alex squirmed in his seat, "No, I just… don't want to ruin this."

"So you left him?" Alexander doesn't think he's ever seen that combination of unimpressed and confused on someone's face before. He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he sighed.

"We're not even, like, together. We haven't kissed or anything. We're just," Alex was grasping fruitlessly in the air for a word to describe them, "you know…"

"Soulmates?"

"Yeah."

Hercules huffed out a soft laugh and took another sip of coffee, "So, what? You want more or something? Is Color Collecting going to be fine with you?"

Alex scowled at his untouched drink, "Of course not. I don't need more. But, I… It's complicated, okay?"

Herc held up his hands in a placating matter, "Alright, alright. You don't have to explain everything to me. Especially if you don't understand it yourself, which seems to be the case."

"I want him." Alexander said, holding his head in his hands, "But I also don't. Because what if-"

"What if he's just using you? For the colors?" Hercules mumbled quietly, gaze directed away from Alexander, filled with cold sorrow. "Kinda like John."

"Kinda like John." Alexander repeated.

* * *

There were many, many emotions that destroyed Alexander's logical thinking when John died and that letter was sent to him. When he found out he was John's soulmate. There was the usuals; pain, regret, longing, sorrow. But then there were the feelings that Hamilton tried hard to repress. The ones that he didn't tell anyone but Hercules and Lafayette about. The feelings that made him hate himself for even feeling them.

To be fair, he was extraordinarily drunk.

"The- the - the entire time, I thought he was my friend!" Alexander hissed, his face a grey flush from the alcohol, "But- but- _no_ , no no no no no, he was _more_ than that, I just didn't get the _honor_ to fUCKING KNOW IT!"

Lafayette had a hand wrapped around a bottle of scotch, his eyes closed and his chin resting on Hercule's shoulder. The two were on a couch while Alexander paced furiously. The Frenchman's accent was atrocious when he was drunk, "'e didn't want tuo tell you becauze you would 'ave reejected 'im, Alezander."

"He didn't tell me so he could keep _using me_! So he could keep seeing the fucking colors everyone is so _obsessed_ with!" Hamilton hissed, twirling around to growl at Laf. His world kept spinning a few seconds after he had stopped, and that only made him madder. "It's- it's an invasion of privacy! I was _letting_ him touch me because I thought he wanted to be near me, not near the colors!"

Hercules, the only sober one in the room, rolled his eyes, "You're getting the wrong idea. John would never _use_ you. He was just-"

"Taking advantage of me. Of what I didn't know. I just thought he was af-affectionate. Or clingy. Or whatever. NOPE! This fucker was practically _molesting_ me every chance he got so he could see some FUCKING COLORS in his life!" Alexander threw his empty bottle, it crashed against the wall, startling Laf into jolting forward, eyes wide. The Frenchman blinked rapidly, eyes landing on Alexander, who was breathing hard.

His lungs refused to cooperate and soon, deep, painful wails were clawing their ways out of his chest. His knees buckled under him and he fell to the ground, his head tilted upwards, gazing towards heaven, letting his dead friend hear his pain.

Laf and Herc glanced at each other before sliding off the couch and onto the floor to hold their drunk, emotional friend.

"Shh," Laf whispered, "It's okay, Alezander."

"He left me." Alex replied instead, from behind thick, fat tears. "He left me. He left me. He took his colors and he _fucking_ left me alone with you losers."

"Gee, thanks." Herc deadpanned, as he pulled Alexander in tighter.

They stayed in that cuddle pile until Alexander cried himself to sleep. Hercules carried him to bed and then ended up doing the same with Laf when the Frenchman discovered he couldn't walk straight anymore. Hercules cleaned up the small house that the two had trashed and eventually fell asleep on the couch. When he woke up Alexander was sitting across from him, silent, his eyes distant.

Hercules, without a word, got up and got the smaller man a glass of water. Alexander numbly drank it all, his eyes never leaving the spot on the floor where he fell to his knees. Herc knelt down in front of him, forcing him to stay in his eyesight.

"Hey." Herc whispered, "What do you remember?"

"All of it." Alex gasped, his voice barely there. "I remember everything."

Hercules put a hand on Alex's knee, his eyes searching the other's blank ones. "You didn't mean anything you said. You were just drunk and in pain. You just miss him and you're taking that anger out on his memory. You didn't mean any of it."

Alexander was looking through him, his gaze unblinking. Slowly, like being pulled from a trance, his gaze slid up to meet Hercule's. "But I did. He used me, Herc. To see the colors."

"...Maybe he did." Hercules admitted quietly, "Maybe in not telling you, he was breaking your trust in some way. But, Alex, when the time comes, and you see them too, you'll understand."

Alexander was determined to never find out if his friend was right. And thus, he dove deep down into his work and didn't resurface until he was about to beat the crap out of a snarky southerner with an alluring gaze.

* * *

Despite his early escape, his talk with Hercules, and his unfortunate reunion with memories he long repressed, Alexander didn't hide from Thomas. He was nervous - terrified - of what was building between them. But he couldn't find it in himself to ignore it.

Alexander found himself in Thomas' office, chatting with the other man while they casually let their legs brush. He would voluntarily deliver paperwork to the other man, just for an excuse to see him again. He would stop him in the hall with a gentle brush of fingers, commenting on something stupid Burr said, just to hear Jefferson's snide remark about it. Alexander knew he was falling deep into something, but he couldn't seem to reach for a parachute.

* * *

Thomas and Alexander haven't shared a night together since after that time with the closet. It had only been two or three days, and they see each other all the time during the day, but Thomas' skin buzzed for more. He wanted to curl around Alexander again like he did that night. He wanted to be able to hold him in the privacy of his own home, where no one could take him away.

Alexander always was the one to approach him. Sometimes astounding the people around them.

"Hey, Thomas." Alex said as he strolled up to the table he and James were sitting at. "Would you like to get lunch?"

"I'm eating lunch with James." Thomas said slowly. He thought he saw James perk up and Hamilton scowl, but when he blinked, both expressions were neutral.

Alex was quick to continue, "I know, but I remember you said you rather enjoyed fudge? And there's a new little bakery that opened up down the block. We could walk there? My treat?"

The poor boy looked terrified. He was fighting, his smile pinched at the edges, and his eyes held a special kind of hope that was only dulled slightly by the grey color of them.

"Hamilton, you couldn't afford the fudge I like." Thomas scoffed, but he was standing anyway. He looked back at James and smiled, "JemmyJames, eat with Burr. I have to show this peasant what _real_ fudge tastes like."

Thomas turned around before the look of heartbreak flashed in James' eyes. Alexander, however, saw it. He wasn't sure how he should feel about it. Madison's loss is his gain, after all. That is, if Jefferson was even considering them together. If it was even an option.

* * *

There was a soft knock on Alexander's office door. He looked up, taking off his glasses, to see Jefferson standing there, looking down the hall nervously.

"Thomas?" Alexander asked, rising from his chair.

"You busy?" Jefferson responded, stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. There was a soft click as he locked it. Alexander raised an eyebrow.

"I suppose not." He had been getting all of his work done on time - before time if he could manage it - ever since Washington lectured him. So he truly wasn't all that busy. Thomas sighed like it was a prayer and immediately attached himself to Hamilton. He thought he heard a soft ' _thank god'_ but he wasn't sure.

Thomas hid his face in Hamilton's neck, which was quite a feat for the taller man. Alexander wrapped his arms around him and pressed their bodies together. His heart was pounding in uncertainty.

"Thomas? What's wrong?" Alexander asked him.

The other man stiffened slightly, before sighing and pulling away, "Nothing, Hamilton, don't worry. I just…" His eyes were shifty and he wouldn't let go of Alex's arm. Like he was drowning and Alexander was his raft. His voice cracked, hesitant, "I just get a little, um, worried sometimes."

"About what?" Alexander asked, rubbing soothing circles into Thomas's palm. The other man shrugged meekly.

"Everything?" Thomas gave him a weak smile. "Usually, I go to James for help. But, he's away on some meeting thing a few towns over and I couldn't breathe and I didn't know what to do and if it's not much trouble, could you just- hold me?"

Alexander blinked, but nodded, and allowed himself to be engulfed by the taller man. Alexander smiled softly to himself as he felt Thomas take deep inhales against his neck. The shorter man pressed a gentle kiss to his ear, it being the only pace he could reach. They must be sensitive, because Thomas made a soft squeaking sound. Glancing down at him, Alexander's smile fell right off.

Because right there, under Alexander's nose, was a very prominent hickey.

It was hidden from view while Thomas was standing straight up, carefully concealed by clothing and hair. But now, now that Thomas was down at his level, Alexander could peak under the hem of his shirt. He could see not one, but many many of them.

Alexander felt his throat run dry at the sight of multiple dark purple bruises on Thomas's neck. Usually they were hidden by his shirt. They never would've been seen if Thomas didn't take a leap of faith and trust Alexander with his anxieties. There were many of them, like possessive little marks of territory. Some of them were in the process of healing. Meaning some of them were older than others. Meaning this wasn't a one-time affair. Alexander's mind slammed to a halt.

"Who- who did that?" Alexander whispered, his voice already raw.

"Hmm? Did what?" Thomas mumbled, not yet realizing the fury and fear swirling in Alexander's chest. He had calmed down considerably and now was relaxing against Alexander's shoulder. Like just his touch was enough to ease his irrational fears.

"Those!" Hamilton hissed, pulling away from the other man, earning himself a surprised gasp from the other man. "Those _things_ on your neck!"

"Oh." Thomas's eyes widened with realization and Alexander could _see_ the blood drain from his face.

"Yeah, _oh_." Alex sassed, crossing his arms. But their legs were still pressed together, so they both still saw the redness of each other's faces.

Thomas waved it off casually. Alexander could see it happening. The fear that Thomas openly shared was gone. Instead it was hiding behind a cocky mask. Just like before. Alexander didn't deserve to see his true emotions anymore. "Truly it's nothing. We both knew the other slept around. It's not like we're…."

He couldn't finish the sentence.

 _It's not as if we're dating_.

And that stung. Like the business end of a banette straight through Alexander's heart. The shorter man felt his blood run cold as a terrible thought came to him. He had to look away as he asked, "...Was it Madison?"

There was a slight pause. Jefferson pulled himself away from Hamilton, turning their argument into dark greys. He started backing up towards the door, then Thomas said in a forced neutral tone, "It doesn't matter."

Alexander didn't have to go to law school to know that was practically a signed confession. He wasn't hurt. He couldn't allow himself to be hurt. So instead, he was the only thing he was ever good at. Mad.

"When did this happen!?" Alexander hissed, pushing Thomas away, but keeping a hand on his chest as he did so. Distant but not divided. He still wanted to see the colors, he still wanted to feel Thomas. "How did this happen!? You told me you weren't fucking! You swore-"

"I never swore a damn thing!" Thomas interrupted, being louder than Hamilton. Because this he could do. He could fight. He could fight with Hamilton until they both tear their vocal chords to pieces. He smacked Hamilton's hand away, once again shoving them away from the colors. "And for your _fucking_ information, I told the truth! At the time, James and I hadn't had sex."

Alex's eyes were wide with fury. He was spitting mad - literally spitting as he shouted, "So, what, you're telling me this _just happened_!? You _just now decided_ that you thought Madison was sexy and wanted to give it a whirl? You said he was like your brother! Do you realize how disgusting that makes you sound right now?!"

"He's grasping, your honor." Thomas snarked, putting on his Lawyer Voice that he only used to mock Hamilton with. As he did so, he unlocked and opened the door, trying to make his escape, but Alexander just followed him. They stood in the doorway, "Those two things have nothing to do with each other and you know it. James is still a brother to me, nothing about our relationship has changed. Not that you have any right to know what the two of us do together."

Alex let out a gasp, "So you're going to continue seeing him?!"

"What? No!" Thomas tried to figure out where Hamilton got that from. "No, I only went to him because I was angry and hurt. He, unlike _some people,_ actually cares about me and makes me feel better. He's there for me when I need it!"

"You have got to be kidding me." Alexander scoffed, rolling his eyes. "He's just letting you come by for a quick fuck. He doesn't actually-"

"YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT JAMES DOES AND DOESN'T DO FOR ME!" Thomas screamed, interrupting Alexander's thought immediately, "Stop fucking pretending you know everything, Hamilton! No one's impressed! You don't know how James feels or what he does! You don't know what I feel! I bet you don't even know how you feel half the time! So _shut up_!"

Hamilton flinched when Thomas leaned forward slightly, fury in his eyes and unshed tears starting to form. Alexander, because he's Not Stupid, didn't hold Thomas like he should have. He didn't apologize, like he should have. He didn't pull him closer and relish in the colors. Like. He. Should. Have.

No, instead, he says, "I wouldn't have cared if it was anyone but Madison."

He says it like a promise. Like it was Thomas' fault, that Alexander was upset. Like there wouldn't be an issue at all if around those bruises were smears of lipstick. Like there was a chance at redemption.

"Why-why does it bother you so much?" Thomas asked quietly, his eyes unwavering, he didn't seem to care that he was in one of the halls of the White House with coworkers slowly gathering around with curious glances. "Why do you even care? Why does it matter if it's James? Why does _that_ cross the line for you?"

The answer was swirling in Alexander's chest. He knew he shouldn't say it, he had no right to. It wasn't his secret to tell. But, god dammit, it hurt so much. And if Thomas knew maybe he'd pick a side and Alexander would have a definitive answer. Even if the answer is no, then he could finally move on with his life. The tension of keeping the words back hurt too much, so they just exploded out of him, because Alexander doesn't know how to do anything subtly.

"BECAUSE YOU'RE HIS!" Alexander grabbed his shoulders, shaking him harshly. Tears were forming in his eyes. His voice was destroyed; completely wrecked, getting quieter as his throat closed up, "YOU'RE HIs soulmate… you're his soulmate."

Thomas stared like a wide-eyed statue, frozen in place, looking down at Hamilton's crushed frame. There was a sharp gasp and that tore his gaze to the crowd around them. A few people got out of the way as Madison stepped through to the front.

"Oh, this is just perfect." Alexander hissed to himself, slowly and deliberately retracting his hands from Jefferson's shoulders. "Fuckin' perfect."

Thomas's voice was quiet when he said, "James?"

"My meeting ended early. I came back to see if you wanted to…" James shrugged awkwardly, his cheeks burning a deep grey, "get drinks."

Jefferson turned fully to watch his friend, something in his eyes unreadable, a strange dance between surprise, hurt, and he couldn't really tell you what the last one was. Thomas blinked once, his eyebrows lowering slightly, "Is… is it true?"

Their coworkers were watching with rapt attention. This was the most excitement they'd had since Hamilton jumped across that office table. James ignored them.

"Yes," he said. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Thomas found out. Well, actually, he was told, which is totally cheating, but whatever. "You're my soulmate."

"But…" Thomas' eyes were darting between James and Alexander now, "but…"

A pained smile graced James' lips, "I know."

Jefferson took a step back, "I have to go."

Both Alexander and James reached out for him. Neither got a chance to see the colors;

"Thomas!"

"Jefferson!"

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

Thomas didn't know how to turn to, where to go. He only had two friends, three if you counted Burr (which he usually didn't), four if he was _really_ desperate and went to John Adams. Five if Laf was in America. He stopped counting his minimal amounts of friends when his mind caught up with him and he realized that he, at some point, started counting Alexander as a friend.

Why was he two of his best friends' soulmate? Who's cruel joke was that?

End the end, Thomas went home. He found himself at his liquor cabinet, but it reminded him of late nights with James, so he stalked away from it, angry and sober.

He flopped down on his bed and stared at the grey pillows. He blinked and saw Hamilton sleeping there. The image had him scrambling out of bed faster than he could process. He fell off the other side, into his office. With a deep sigh, he figured he might as well just lay on the floor. What was the point in getting up? His friend was his enemy and his enemy was his soulmate. Life had no purpose anymore. There was no one he could trust. Only the cool embrace of Death was welcoming to him. Here he shall lay until he-

"I can't believe he gave you a key."

No, they wouldn't dare...

"I can't believe you sucked face with him when you knew he was mine."

 _Of course_ they'd dare. This is Alexander Hamilton and James Madison he was dealing with. Why wouldn't they hunt him down in his own house? Shit.

"He's not _yours_ , he's not a property to own."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Huh, tell that to your slaves."

Why can't they just let him deal with his emotional breakdown in peace?

"Watch it, Hamilton."

Call him a coward, Thomas doesn't give two shits, but when he heard their arguing voices come closer, Thomas quietly scrambled under his bed. Surely they wouldn't look for him under here. They wouldn't _expect_ him to be hiding. Well, James might, but that's beside the point. Please, God, don't let them look under here.

"Thomas?" A voice called out. Thomas bit his knuckle until he heard something crack. He will not be found. He will not be found. He will not be found.

"Thomas!" Another voice said, a bit more concerned. The footsteps stopped suddenly. Thomas glanced over and internally groaned when he saw their shoes by the bed. "Ugh, here's his stupid bed."

" _I_ like his bed."

Two of the shoes turned towards the other pair, "Oh, _congratulations_! It's not a fucking contest."

"Actually, it seems it is." James' voice said coldly, "You made it one."

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

"I was perfectly content with what I could get. I was happy being his friend and just his friend. I knew from the moment I first touched him that he wasn't mine. I accepted it." James let out a long sigh, "And then _you_ show up and just-"

Alexander was speaking over him now, "You were _lying_ to him!"

"Oh, grow up, Hamilton." James hissed with surprising ferocity. "The world isn't black and white."

"No, it's grey, thanks to you."

"Ugh! What does he even _see_ in you?!"

Alexander just scoffed, but it sounded fake even to Thomas. Something in that realization made his stomach flutter. Thomas imagined Alexander's face lighting up with surprise at the comment, a flicker of disbelief in those expressive eyes, before he'd decide to hide his blush with an angry scowl.

James sighed suddenly, "I don't think he's home. He would've kicked us out by now."

Thomas bit back a squeak as James sat down on the bed. It was very quiet for a long moment. Thomas stared at the wall before him, his knuckle still in his mouth, as he listened intently for their footsteps to walk away. That's not what happened.

James must have seemed crushed, because Hamilton's voice was suddenly soft, full of concern, "Hey, are you okay?"

Thomas could hear the shudder in James' voice as he said, "I'm terrified."

"What? Why?" Hamilton sat down next to him and now Thomas could see the tips of their shoes as they brushed the floor.

"I'm losing him, Hamilton." James whispered emotionally, "Because of your little stunt, I'm losing my best friend."

Hamilton shifted above Thomas, "Hey, no, I don't think so. He won't be mad forever. Not about this. It's not like he's me." It must've been his attempt at a joke, but it clearly fell flat. Alexander cleared his throat and started again, "I know you kept a big secret from him. But, you know, I'm sure in time, he'll understand."

James scoffed, "Forgiveness? Can you imagine…" There was a deep breath and then his voice appeared much clearer, "I just don't want him to be mad at me. We've never fought before. We're… we're better than that. I want him to be happy, but I want to be there to see his smiles. If he hates me, what am I going to do?"

"He couldn't hate you." Hamilton almost sounded bitter, "You're _Madison and Jefferson_. He… he might be hurt at first. But pain fades. Once he's alright, he'll let you back into his life. I know he will."

Thomas picked at a stray thread on the carpet to distract himself from the pain in his chest. His soulmate and his best friend were clearly in pain right above him and he could do nothing about it. He didn't even know what he'd do if he had the chance.

At least this couldn't get any worse.

"He's an excellent lay. At least I got to experience that."

God hates him. That must be the only reason why Thomas is in such an insufferable situation. He has wronged God and this is his punishment.

"I don't want to hear about it." There was a pause, and then, Hamilton said quietly, "Actually, I do."

Thomas' face burst into a hot, deep grey. No, they weren't _seriously_ going to-

"He does this thing with his tongue-"

-ohmygod they are seriously doing this-

"-but the best thing is his hands."

"Seriously?"

-dear Lord in heaven, please strike him down now-

"Oh, yes. The hands are how you know what someone is really after. And they're so big and warm."

"James Madison has a hand kink!" Hamilton shouted childishly, his feet kicking out as he laughed. Thomas almost blew his cover by snorting with laughter. He held it back and continued to hide.

James only sounded a little annoyed as he said, "Like you don't love them, too." Hamilton's laughter was cut off abruptly, apparently caught. Madison almost sounds smug as he continues, "Does he ever grab you by your hips when you make out?"

It was quiet for a long moment. Something that made Thomas raise his chin off the floor slightly, tilting his head up to try to hear if they're suddenly whispering.

"...We haven't kissed." Hamilton admitted quietly.

James sounded surprised by this, "Really?"

"Yeah." Hamilton sounded … sad. Thomas blinked rapidly, wondering why the hell that would matter so much.

James's perplex voice was directed more to himself than to Hamilton, "But he's obsessed with you. Why wouldn't he kiss you?"

Thomas' face burst into another round of grey. Trust his best friend to spill all his secrets. Thomas is going to kill him, for one reason or another. He's going to die.

"I've been asking myself that ever since this started." Hamilton flopped back on the bed, making the springs squeak. Thomas scowled, knowing that he was messing up his bedspread. "I mean, once I started to think that maybe Jefferson likes me back."

Thomas' eyes flew wide at the simple sentence. 'Likes me back', he says, so casually, as if it doesn't destroy Thomas' very existence.

Alexander continues quietly, "I thought, 'okay, clearly, we like each other, we're soulmates, so why won't he kiss me? What am I doing wrong?' And every time I thought it would happen… it doesn't."

There was shifting above him, Thomas imagines it's Alexander turning to look at James for an answer, because a second later, James' voice says, "Well, Thomas is a very shy person."

A snort.

"No, really, he is." James continues, "And you're so idiotically brash, it makes sense that he thought you'd make the first move."

Thomas doesn't know what part of this conversation makes him feel embarrassed to no end. Perhaps all of it. Yeah, that's probably right. This is a painfully embarrassing conversation.

"I… I didn't know that." Hamilton said quietly. Thomas rolled his eyes. ' _Yeah, no shit, course you didn't know, I didn't want you to.'_

Jefferson was scowling as he listened to _someone_ take a deep breath. He almost choked on his breath when he heard what came next.

"Do I have your permission to have Jefferson?"

James sounded just as startled as Thomas felt, "Excuse me?"

"If he will have me," Alexander started slowly, "I'd like to… _be_ with him."

"Until when?!" Poor Madison still appeared in shock.

Alex snorted, "Well, forever, hopefully."

"Alexander Hamilton, are you asking for _my permission_ so you can _court_ _my soulmate_?!" The bed was creaking as James moved around. It creaked some more as Hamilton followed him. Thomas angrily scratched at his hand, he wanted to see their faces, he needed more context. This was killing him, and call him a masochist now, because he need more.

Alexander sighed, "As far as I know he doesn't have any family in New York. You're his closest friend and you also have the most information about the situation. It's only unfair circumstance that put you in the spot of the unrequited soulmate. I'm sorry about that. I honestly am. But right now, you're the guardian of his heart. So, _yes_ , I'm asking for your permission for it."

"Alexander, this is unbelievable." James whispered, a bit breathless.

"I said _if he wants me_. It's his choice. If he wants me, will you be okay with that?" Alexander asked seriously.

Thomas stilled as he listened for James' answer.

"Yes, of course." James sighed. He didn't sound so happy about it. "I would do anything for Thomas. And if that means letting you have him, then, so be it."

There was silence for a long moment, then, quietly, Alexander whispered, "I would have dated John."

"Hm?"

"John. My- a friend. He was in the same situation as you. I was his. But, clearly, he wasn't mine. He died and it was only then that I was informed that he saw colors around me. I was so _mad_. For along time."

Thomas listened with rapt attention. He didn't know any of this.

"But I think I finally figured out why." His voice sounded pained, even a bit choked up, as he said, "Because I would've dated him. If he had told me while he was alive. It wouldn't've been perfect. I'm sure I wouldn't've been satisfied. But he would've been happy. And I couldn't give that to him. Because he never told me."

James' voice was small as he shushed the crying man, "Alexander, please…"  
Alex sucked in a deep breath, clearing his throat. He sounded more in control as he said, "What I'm trying to say is, Madison, if Thomas chooses you, I understand why."

"And, you won't be mad…?" James sounded unsure.  
Thomas could practically _hear_ the bittersweet smile in the man's voice, "No madder than how I usually am around Jefferson."

"Okay."

"Okay."

There was a pause of silence and Thomas wondered how long these fuckers were going to stay in his bed. Finally, he heard the bed shift above him once again as James stood up. His shoes shifted near Thomas's hip.

"Let's get out of here. Clearly, he's not coming home anytime soon." James sighed.

Alexander stood up, too, "You think he's in trouble?"

"No. Knowing Jeff, he's probably at some fancy bar getting drunk on something colorful." Madison didn't seem too concerned about that, which made Thomas frown slightly. This motherfuc- "Oh, and Hamilton?"

"Hm?"

"If you ever even _think_ about breaking Thomas' heart again-"

"The same goes for you."

 _Thomas_ felt scared and he was the one they were protecting. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the promise of spilt blood in their tones. He stared wide-eyed, straight ahead as he listened to them shuffle away. He still couldn't get over the fact that neither of them even _said_ a threat.

Despite his early internal whining, Thomas was _incredibly_ thankful that he couldn't see their faces. He didn't need that nightmare fuel.

* * *

I told myself this would have 5 chapters.

I lied to myself.

Tell me what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

Thomas hadn't slept in a month, he was done, he was drained. He's never had so much shit running through his brain. He was up all night, staring at his grey ceiling, thinking about everything that had happened, about everything he had heard. He supposes Alexander and James are right. He has to make a decision.

He had (designer) bags under his eyes as he downed as much coffee as he could. He just stepped foot in his office when someone poked their head in and said those cursed words.

"President Washington would like to see you. Right now."

Thomas openly groaned. He threw his bag down and slammed his coffee none-too-gently onto his desk. Frustration was flowing off him in waves as he pushed past the poor worker and headed to the Oval Office.

When he opened the door, three men were waiting for him. He almost groaned again. Almost.  
He at least had the dignity to straighten up and stroll to stand in the open spot between Hamilton and Madison. He kept his chin tipped up as he glared unapologetic daggers at Washington.

"Sir." He said tightly.

"I have tried being civil." Washington said slowly, rubbing his forehead. "But this is getting ridiculous."

"Sir?" Thomas raised an eyebrow unhelpfully.

"Why is NO ONE working, now?" Washington asked, confused and frustrated. "Somehow, almost overnight, everyone is behind on their work. No one got anything done last night. Now, why is that?"

Thomas ignored the two hands that were reaching out for him subtly. One on each side, both searching for the comfort of colors. He refused to give it to them, clasping his hands in front of him. If they wanted his warmth, they'd have to do it in front of the President. "Perhaps there was an interesting debacle last night; a turn of events that left the grapevine ripe."

"I don't care what happened. I just know that your names have been thrown around." Washington said, taking a moment to stare at each of them.

Madison and Hamilton both appeared sick; pale and slightly sweaty, their bodies practically vibrating with unused energy. Jefferson looked out for blood. Simply stating, if this Jefferson was a soldier in the war; it would've been over much quicker.

The president continued, "I cannot keep leading when the people I'm leading keep fatiguing? This is not the way to run a government and you know it." His voice was hard and terrifying as he said, "Fix. This."

Three "Yes, sir"s sounded off with varying degrees of confidence.

Thomas turned and walked out of the room, not once letting Madison or Hamilton touch him. He didn't miss the way their fingers reached out for him.

* * *

It was probably hours later when there was a knock on Jefferson's office door. He's stayed in the small room all day, not wanting to have to deal with everyone staring at him and whispering. His anxiety could _not_ handle that.

"Who is it?" Thomas called, setting down his quill.

"Aaron Burr, sir." A voice called through the door.

Thomas raised an eyebrow; it wasn't often Burr came by. It must be something of importance. "Come in."

Aaron slid into his office quietly, closing the door behind him. He holds no papers or forms. So the chances of this being a legal discussion were dwindling.

"What do you need?" Thomas asked as politely as he could.

"I have some questions." Burr stated, glancing around the office unapologetically. "I've heard about your situation-"

"Yes, everyone in the office has heard." Thomas growled bitterly, "Except for Daddy. Maybe he does know and he's just not bringing it up."

Aaron raised his eyebrows, "You're upset."

"I didn't ask for my personal life to be publicized on display like this." Thomas said, "This is not how I want to be the talk of the town."

"Hmm, that's what happens when you're dealing with Hamilton." Burr states, almost sympathetic.

Thomas sighed, leaning back in his swivel chair, "Well, I didn't ask for _that_ either."

Aaron just nodded quietly and let the silence fill the room for a minute. Eventually, he broke it, saying, "So, who's it going to be?"

"What do you mean?" Thomas lowered his hands from where they rested behind his head.

"Since you have to choose. Hamilton or James?" Aaron asked, picking up a paperweight of a mockingbird that James got him for his birthday one year. When Thomas didn't answer right away, Aaron's gaze flicked up to look at him. "You do have to choose."

 _Hamilton or James?_

Thomas blinked rapidly, not sure of who he'd pick. "James. No, Hamil- no. Neither. Well, I…"

Aaron at least had the respect to look sympathetic, "Regardless of what you pick, an answer is a necessity. You can't string them along forever."

He set down the paperweight and started to back away, "You have an interesting decision on your hands. I'll leave you to it."

"Nothing we said leaves this room." Thomas declares before Aaron could put a hand on the door.

Aaron looks back at him, nods, and promises, "The people won't know what we know."

Thomas groaned as the door closed behind Burr. His thoughts were swarming, echoing with everything that just happened.

 _Since you have to choose._

 _Since you have to choose…_

 _Hamilton or James?_

 _Choose._

 _Choose._

 _Choose._

* * *

It wasn't in Alexander's plan to become friends with James Madison. He wasn't expecting them to bond over this situation. But as every grey second ticked on, Hamilton found slight comfort in Madison's presence.

"Ah, Jefferson!" Alexander said, perhaps too nervous, because the other man barely raised an eyebrow. "I got you coffee. Cream, three sugars and a squirt of caramel. You're favorite."

Hamilton smiled hopefully as he held out the beverage. Jefferson's face was unreadable. He blinked slowly, deliberately, to express his unimpressed air even further. Alexander's smile wavered.

James jumped in before Alex could try to defend himself, "I got you croissants from the bakery you like? The one owned by the French immigrant?"

He gestured to the brown paper bag in his hands. Jefferson watched them for one second longer before he promptly turned on his heel and walked away without a word. James sighed and Alex growled.

"This coffee was expensive dammit." Alex muttered angrily.

"Yes, that's why he likes it." James said, watching his friend walk off. "Also, he likes four sugars."

" _He LikEs FoUr sUgArS_." Alex mocked. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled at its sweet taste. "Do you want this?"

"Sure. Would you like the croissants? I can't eat them." Madison said. He nodded and they switched foods. Alexander followed James to his office, sulking the entire way.

Alex whined around French bread, "I don't understand. Why is he still mad?"

"It's been three days." James said, setting down his coffee.

"Exactly, time to move on!" Alex huffed.

"That's rich, coming from you." James smiled, sitting down in his chair. "Don't forget, Thomas has the same grudge-holding ability as an exhausted Hamilton."

Alex rolled his eyes, "Well I am an exhausted Hamilton and I'm tired of him ignoring us! I need- I want him to go back to how it was. He's never been mad like this before. The silent, disapproving scowl. That's Washington's thing, not Thomas'."

"I miss him." James said, quietly. "I miss him so much I'm hanging out with you."

"Same here." Alexander sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

James watched him for a moment and then gestured with his hand, "Come here."

Alex looked up at him, "What?"

"Come here." James tapped his lap and Alex shot him the most confused look.

"I don't wanna." Alex said, staring at James like he had two heads.

"Just get over here."

Alex sighed but walked over to James. He hesitated, but Madison successfully manhandled him until he was sitting in his lap. Alex had a perpetual scowl on his face as he wondered what the _hell_ Madison thought he was doing.

And then fingers were gently being carded through his hair. He felt his body relax after a moment, his back leaning into James' chest as the other man gently tugged the knots out of his hair. They were quiet for a long time, just letting the grey world float away from them.

Fingers still sliding through Alex's hair, James asked, "Why are you so obsessed with soulmates, Alexander?"

"EXCUSE ME!?" Hamilton tried to launch himself out of James' lap, but the other man wrapped an arm around his waist until he stopped squirming.

"I've read your numerous essays on the topic. As has Thomas. We both agree you're the most dedicated person to the subject." A pause as James lowers his hand to sit on Alex's back. "So why does it matter to you so much? Why do you hate soulmates with all your heart?"

Alexander was quiet for a long, long moment. He stared at the ground, his shoulders shaking with effort to keep his voice even. "My dad."

"I'm sorry?" James asked, rubbing soothing circles into Alex's back.

Hamilton let out a shaky breath, "My mom and dad were soulmates. And he left her. He left her to see nothing but gray scale as we got sick. She died without any colors. It was all his fault- he ruined her life!"

"Shh, okay, okay." James whispered, pulling Hamilton closer. He returned his hand to Alex's hair, seeing as that relaxed him greatly. "I guess you do have a good reason to be obsessed with soulmates."

"H-how could it be so good- if, if people like _him_ ruin lives with it?" Alex asked, turning to curl against James' chest. Madison allowed the other man this moment of weakness. He held him quietly and let him share his most painful thoughts, "It's happening again. To me. My family is cursed. Our soulmates will always leave us. I- I- I-"

James glanced over at his door when he heard what appeared to be footsteps running away. He just briefly caught a glimpse of a shadow under the door. Someone was listening. And James was willing to bet his (minute) health on who it was.

"That won't happen again." James said with finality.

Alexander was too tired to argue.

* * *

 _Shit, doesn't that just explain a lot._ Thomas thought as he scurried away from Madison's door. He wasn't _planning_ on hearing all of that. He just was told to deliver something to James and when he heard crying, well, he wasn't going to interrupt. A memory flashed into his mind just then. A soft moment in the dark, with clutching hands on each other, warm skin flushed against warm skin, colors surrounding them.

 _"Will you still … crave me … when the sun comes up?"_

Thomas shoved a pile of papers into some poor intern's chest. He snarled, "Give these to Madison."

He knows that this was fault, but _fuck_ couldn't Hamilton just properly communicate for once in his life?

* * *

They were at a cabinet meeting, discussing the issue of slavery. This was their third meeting on the subject and everyone was getting antsy. Thomas was doing his best, but he couldn't focus on his argument because Alexander honestly looked like some kind of crack addict. He was fidgeting nonstop, his eye twitching uncontrollably. Concern grew in Jefferson as he watched his friend, clearly suffering without the colors. James was sat next to Hamilton, not Jefferson, which was strange, but he supposed he should have expected that.

Thomas shook his head, focusing on what he was saying, "Slavery's a sin, it's growing like a cancer." His eyes flickered to James and Alexander, his voice grave, "But we can't address the question if we do not have an answer."  
Washington stood, clapping a hand on his shoulder a bit too tightly, enough to make him wince. "I said tread lightly," Washington pulled Thomas away from the table, half of him hidden by the president's muscled frame.

Thomas flinched under his gaze, "Sir, I-"

"LET GO OF HIM!" Hamilton suddenly screamed. No one was watching how the anger was building in the stressed out man. How he was a bomb ready to explode, cracking under the stress of each second without his soulmate next to him. James, used to this treatment, was in much better shape. But Hamilton had given all he could take. He jumped up from his chair, screaming at the president, "Let him go! You're hurting him! Stop it!"

James was up in an instant, holding Alexander back. The immigrant was spitting mad, trying to climb over the table. He was blind with his fury and his need to see the colors. It was a moment of weakness, he would say later. But right now, he appeared anything but weak.

It took four men to hold him back as he swung his fist wildly, screaming the entire time, "Stop it! Let go of me! I swear I'll end you! He's mine! Let him go! Let me see him! Please!"

Washington was in a state of shock, it appeared, because it was easy for Thomas to step around him, holding up his hands placatingly, "Alexander, I'm fine."

Something tugged in his chest at seeing his friend, his soulmate, so distraught because he hasn't touched him in days. He knew that he shouldn't feel good about this, but deep down a part of him does. A weird, sick little part of his brain whispered, ' _Aw, he cares.'_ and isn't that just the most deranged thought he's had in awhile.

The fight left Alexander as he made eye contact with Thomas. His gaze flittered around the other man's body, making sure he wasn't hurt. For a second, everyone was still.

And then Hamilton broke down. "Please, please I can't take it anymore, please."

"Get a medic for the secretary treasury." Washington said, and a few men who weren't holding Hamilton scrambled out of the room.

"Sir," James said, his head near Alex's shoulder as he held the smaller man back with his arms across his chest, "As for the slave debate; I'll reassure the South, 1808 is still the year that was agreed upon; that buys us time and assuages fear. I'll tell the North that on January 1st of that year, we'll ban importation handling the worst. Once I get all this agreed upon, I'll pick up a pen and introduce a motion never to discuss this again."

Washington nodded, clearly trying to keep his cool in the sight of Hamilton writhing against four men's strength to get to Jefferson. "Very well. If that's the best we can do. Madison, I'll leave it to you."

The president turned to Thomas, who hadn't taken his shocked gaze off of Alexander, he went to put a hand on him, but the secretary treasury actually _growled_ , so the president lowered his hand. "Thomas, you should go. This behavior will only get worse the longer he has to look at you. Distance is best."

Actually, touch is best. Thomas should go to Alexander and let him see the colors and calm down in his arms. But Jefferson knew he couldn't do that. He nodded to the president and quickly made his exit. A shiver ran down his spine at the desperate screams that followed his footsteps.

"Please, Thomas - no! Come back! Please! _PLEASE!_ "

* * *

James was putting another cold rag on Alex's forehead as the other man stared at the ceiling. They hadn't spoken since the doctor left. When the doctor was able to calm Hamilton down, the men holding him still were able to tentatively leave. Washington had abandoned them a while ago, leaving them the privacy of the room.

Alexander was lying on the table, papers that were left there were scattered under his back. He scowled at himself, embarrassed. "Well, he's never going to want me now."

"Color Madness is common, Alexander." Madison said, "Jeff knows this. He won't hold it against you."

"I was an animal." Alex said, pulling his hands up over his face, "I was- I couldn't control myself. I _had_ to touch him. I thought Washington was hurting him. I thought-"

"I know, shh." James' job was to keep Alexander calm. If the man got riled up again, he might relapse, although it's unlikely, the doctor urged caution.

Alexander looked through his fingers to James, who had started running his fingers through his hair. "Have you ever suffered Color Madness?"

"Once." James admitted. "I've gone through every disease once. It was shortly after discovering I wasn't Thomas'. But I was able to touch him. I just felt overly possessive and clingy. I yelled at anyone who even _looked_ at him."

Alexander huffed, "James Madison? Yelling?"

"Hope you never see the day." Madison smiled. "Thomas didn't know what was going on. But he let me cling to him and he took me home. We Color Collected for a while and I was fine after that."

"Did he ever ask about it?" Alexander tilted his head to get a better look.

"Not once." James shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Lousy." Alexander sighed, "But in control."

James helped him sit up, rubbing his back, "It'll be alright. Honestly, Color Madness is the least of your worries. No one will hold it against you."

Alexander thought about Jefferson's shocked face when Hamilton was furiously clawing to get to him. He remembered the almost scared step back Thomas took when Alex got a knee up on the table. He saw the way he Thomas left the room without a single argument. How he didn't touch him at all. How he looked like he never would again.

"I'm not so sure about that."

* * *

It was a few days later. The gossip about Alex's mental breakdown had come and gone. The office got back to work after a few terrifying glares from Washington. The president was more protective than ever of his favorite employee. Alexander was both grateful and embarrassed.

Hamilton and Madison were standing in Alexander's office, speaking quietly to one another, when Thomas burst through the door. They both jumped at the sudden sound. Hope and fear clearly warred in their eyes with each step as Thomas got closer. They could see the anger and determination in his square shoulders and his tight jaw.

James and Alex shared a glance, each wondering what was about to happen. Thomas didn't notice how they intertwined their pinkies behind their backs. It brought forth no colors, but the two took comfort in it anyway.

Thomas stopped before them, crossing his arms. He look down his nose at them.

 _Hamilton or James_.

 _Since you have to choose._

 _Hamilton or James._

 _Choose._

 _Choose._

 _Choose!_

"I've made my decision."

* * *

Tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Alex and James shared a terrified look.

"Well?" Alex asked, his anxieties clear in his voice.

Thomas's expression softened. He smiled at the two of them lovingly. Then, slowly, he reached out and grabbed one of their hands.

"I choose James." He whispered, pulling his friend's hand up to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

"What?" James' throat started to burn as he stared at the beautiful man before him. He struggled to keep the emotion from his voice as he said, "You'd rather have me than the colors?"

"Of course, JemmyJames." Thomas said, brushing a stray tear off his cheek gently. They were still clutching hands tightly, and James couldn't stop smiling.

"Tom, I-" He looked away, still smiling, "I didn't ever think…"

"Shh, it's alright. I've got you now." Thomas mumbled as he pressed a soft kiss to James' hair.

Someone cleared their throat. They turned and saw Alexander's face. James' smile immediately fell. "Alex-"

"No. I'll- um." Alex cleared his throat again, unable to keep eye contact. "I'll leave you to it."

Thomas grabbed him before he could leave. Both of their worlds engulfed into color. Alex forced himself to look up into Thomas' eyes. He was, once again, trying to hide his hurt behind anger. But Thomas could see through it easily. Alex was devastated.

"And," Thomas said lowering his hand down to lace his fingers with Alex's, "I choose you, too."

Alexander frowned, thrown for a loop, "What?"

Thomas smiled, gently pressing their foreheads together. "Alex, I like you a lot." He then turned to James, who was watching with wide eyes, "James, you're the closest friend I've got."

Both of them were silent as he pulled both of their hands up to his lips. "And I think the three of us have a real good shot."

When neither of them said anything, and they just stared at each other in shock, Thomas' nerves skyrocketed. He thought this was the perfect solution. But it needed everyone's approval for it to work. As the silence grew, Thomas started talking to fill it.

"This is what I want." Thomas said, holding up their connected hands. "This. All of us. Together."

"But…" James said, a confused frown on his face.

"I don't understand." Alex was blinking rapidly, his gaze locked on their connected fingers. "You want _both_ of us?"

Thomas smiled, "Yes."

Alexander and Madison stared at each other, neither one of them expecting this. They both agreed the other was allowed to have Thomas if he chose them. But what if they chose both?

"What are you thinking?" Alex asked, "Threesomes every night? Because I am _not_ fucking Madison. No offense."

"I agree." James added, "I don't want Alexander, I want you."

Thomas quickly backtracked, "No, neither of you have to have sex with each other. I don't care if you two even hold hands. You just have to share this."

James looked to Alex, "Can you do that?"

"I don't know." Alex looked unsure. He bit his lower lip, his gaze falling down to the cluster of clasped ands in the middle of them.

He isn't sure who asked the next question. His mind was too busy racing.

"Are you willing to try?"

"...Yes."

* * *

Alex moved in immediately.

Thomas teased him relentlessly, "Eager, aren't we?"

"I'm just making sure you don't have a chance to change your mind." Alexander said as he stepped into Thomas' home.

Jefferson scoffed, "I would never."

"Like how you wouldn't ever sign for the bill to-"

"Okay, okay. That's different. That was for the country."

"I think you meant 'ruining the country'." Alex was arguing because his nerves were completely shot. He was excited and nervous and overjoyed and worried. He didn't actually care that much about the stupid bill. He just was trying to hold off on the _reality_ of what was happening. He was moving in with Jefferson. To live with him. As boyfriends. As _soulmates_.

"Is this all your stuff, or is more coming?" Thomas asked, looking down the street before he closed the door.

"This is all." Alex said, looking down at the meager bag full of clothes and books in his hands. "I don't have a lot of stuff."

"Don't worry, baby. We'll fix that." Thomas said, walking away. "Anything you want, you can have. Just tell me and I'll buy it for you."

Alexander was rooted to his spot for a second, because of the easily dropped pet name. Because of the air of comfort and casualty Thomas brought to the room. Because this was now _his_.

Hamilton scrambled after Thomas, "I don't need your petty pity cash, Jefferson. And I don't want anything from you."

Thomas turned around, and smoothly pulled Hamilton flush against his chest. Color flowed around them as Thomas leaned forward even more, breathing the air that Hamilton suddenly couldn't, "Really? Because a little birdy told me you wanted this."

Hamilton practically beat him to it, throwing his arms around Thomas's neck and kissing him intently. His first kiss, he was tired of waiting. Thomas squeaked at the neediness of the kiss. He picked Hamilton up and carried him through the house easily. Their lips never lost touch. Color surrounded them as Jefferson laid Hamilton on the bed.

"Ugh, not this stupid thing." Hamilton grumbled. But his complaints quickly grew as dry as his mouth as Jefferson knelt above him and started shucking off his layers of clothing. Alex stared at his shirtless soulmate, swallowing deeply.

"Are you alright?" Thomas asked after a second, "We don't have to-"

"No, no, it's just-" Alex's face grew bright red. He quickly hid it behind his shaking hands. "You're just really pretty!"

Thomas couldn't stop giggling as he kissed Alexander senseless.

* * *

Work grew even more interesting. They were finally able to get shit done around the place. Hamilton was back to working himself ragged, until Thomas came by and forced him to rest.

"Um, Mr. Jefferson? Why is hamilton sleepin on you?" Someone once had the gall to ask him.

Without looking up from what he was reading, Thomas said, "Because fuck you, thats why."

No one asked again.

The cabinet meetings were just as difficult as always. But no one really knew how to react the first time Jefferson and Hamilton went toe to toe.

"Baby, this legislation is bullshit. I don't care if your pretty little mind made it. It's shit." Thomas said, waving the papers in his face.

"Dearest, I'm telling you, this addition to the constitution is a mandatory edit that would do good for our nation!" Hamilton said in the harshest loving tone Washington had ever heard.

"Darling, I love that bleeding heart of yours, but it's going to get you in trouble some day." Thomas sighed, "This legislation is a waste of taxpayer money. We simply don't need it."

Hamilton had grown quiet, his face slack, "Wait, what?"

"We don't need it." Thomas repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"No, you said…" Hamilton's cheeks were turning dark as he realized they were in a room full of their coworkers. "That you… about me- my…"

Thomas' eyes widened in realization. "I haven't said that yet?"

Hamilton silently shook his head.

Thomas' face grew deep grey as he mumbled, "Oops."

"This is so fucking weird." Someone said.

"This is adorable." James sighed as he watched Jefferson blush. He was currently the only one in the room who could see color, since he had his knee pressed up against Thomas' and he was _loving_ the view.

* * *

"Your shampoo is green." Hamilton said softly as he poured some of it into his hand.

Thomas kept his voice just as quiet when he replied, "I never knew that before."

Alexander couldn't hold back his smile as he gently massaged the suds into Thomas' brown skin. He loved the sight of the mint bubbles popping against that strong chest.

The water sprayed around them, heating up their bodies and allowing a light mist to dance around them.

Jefferson pulled his hair back as he washed the shampoo through it. His curls hung lower with the weight of the water. His eyes tracked the pattern Hamilton traced across his skin. His hand suddenly stilled over Thomas's heart.

"What's wrong, darling?" Thomas asked, gently tilting Alex's chin up.

Alexander sounded small as he asked, "You still … like me, right?"

Thomas pressed a soft kiss against his wet lips. "Yes, my dear. I do."

Alex was shaking, despite the hot water around them, "But, but I messed up yesterday at work. You were so stressed and I-"

"Shh," Thomas whispered, cupping Hamilton's face in his hands, "I wasn't mad at you, Alexander. And even if I was, I'm not going to leave you over _law_. I know your political views are shit." He pressed a kiss to his nose, "And I love you anyway."

"You're the one with shitty views." Hamilton grumbled, but he seemed much more satisfied.

Jefferson gently turned him around and started to massage shampoo into his hair. "Actually, I have a pretty great view right here."

He slapped Alex's ass and laughed when the other man gasped.

"JEFFERSON!"

* * *

James was around all the time now. He didn't live with them. Not yet, at least. They were still taking things slow.

"We're moving at your pace, darling." Thomas whispered as he held Alex tightly with one arm and James with the other. Usually James just came by after work and then hung out until night. Then he would go home with no more than a peck on the cheek from Thomas. He seemed fine with the slow pace, understanding the importance of Alexander's comfort.

"Yeah, yeah." Alex said slowly, "I know. Just give me some more time to get used to the idea."

* * *

Some more time had come and gone.

They were in the kitchen, Thomas's hands were sliding around his hips as he slipped between his legs. Alexander purred as Thomas nosed at his neck.

"You two are disgusting." A voice deadpanned from across the room.

Thomas looked up, a bright smile on his face. Alex relished in the warmth that he didn't pull away.

"Jemmy! How's it going?" Thomas's hand was curling through Alex's hair, knowing that the rhythmic motions soothed him.

James shuffled his feet, a bit awkwardly. "The, um, carriage is outside. If you'd like to help me bring in my things?"

Before answering, Thomas pecked Alexander on the cheek and whispered, "You still okay with this?"

Alex wordlessly nodded. Jefferson wasn't convinced, "Darling, it has to be completely consensual. If you don't want this, you have to say something."

"No, no. I'm fine with this." Alex mumbled, unable to keep eye contact. He took a deep breath. "It's just… a big step."

"One that we're taking together." Thomas reminded him. He pulled Alex into a long, loving kiss that left Alexander swooning into Thomas' touch. Jefferson grinned down at his boy and then turned to James, "Happy to help!"

James smiled a bit awkwardly, but waited until Alex hopped off the counter and the two walked over to him. He slid his hand into Thomas' and relaxed at the brightening smile he got.

"There isn't much. I decided I would still keep my old home. It's family property, so I only brought what I could fit in a carriage." James said as he led them outside.

"That's fine. Jefferson has enough sht for the three of us." Hamilton said, "And then some."

"Hey!" Thomas said, glaring at Alex.

"Oh, yeah. He buys anything that looks breakable. Doesn't even matter if it matches." James agreed.

"It _always_ matches!" Thomas's neck snapped to look at Madison.

Alex hummed, "I disagree."

Thomas pouted when both men laughed at his expense, "I hate you guys."

Despite his words, two seconds later he was sneaking kisses and longing glances.

* * *

That night, Thomas lay in between James and Alex. Both men were curled around his sides, and he stared at the ceiling while they slept. He could see the shades, they were no longer grey. Not with his boys near him.

Alexander mumbled in his sleep and shifted closer to Thomas. The Virginian brushed his fingers through his hair, smiling at the soft moan it brought forth.

James slept like the dead. The only way to tell there wasn't a corpse in his bed was by feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Eventually, sleep overtook Thomas. But with two warm bodies pressed against him; he didn't seem to mind.

* * *

The first thing Thomas heard when he came home one evening was:

"FUCK!"

Which is always promising.

"What the _shit_ , James!?"

"I _said_ sit still."

"And I _said_ that this won't fucking - owowowowowow!"

Thomas followed the two voices to his kitchen, where Alex was sitting at the table, in just his underwear, and James was kneeling in front of him.

"What's, uh, what's going on?" Thomas said, slowly stepping into the room.

James looked over his shoulder and sighed. "Baby has a sunburn."

Thomas looked at his soulmate's newly darkly grey body and couldn't help but burst out into laughter. "Jemmy, I've never had that issue in my _life_!"

"I know, me neither. It's the only illness I _haven't_ gotten." James laughed, turning back to Hamilton, "I thought he was dying when he came home, screaming about how his skin hurt."

"My skin _does_ hurt, you assholes!" Alexander hissed as James gently rubbed some more tea into his skin.

"I already had him take a cold bath. Now I'm rubbing tea on him." James explained, "I've been told it helps."

"That's my sweet tea!" Thomas complained as he strolled over to them.

"You can lick it off me." Alex waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

James and Thomas shared a glance and then simultaneously pressed a hand to Hamilton's skin.

"SHIT!" Hamilton immediately screamed, "BAD IDEA BAD IDEA! LET GO LET GO LET GO LET GO!"

The two southerners burst out into laughter, James had to set down the jug of tea he was holding as e wrapped his arms around his waist. Thomas accidentally pressed a hand to Hamilton's burned shoulder, which made the man yelp. Thomas pulled his hand away, but couldn't stop giggling at Alexander's grey face.

"YOU GUYS SUCK!"

* * *

James was going to rip out his hair. The other two had been fighting ever since they left work. About some new law Washington is pushing. Madison honestly couldn't care less. But he was starting to grind his teeth, the noise was too much.

He unlocked the door, stepped inside their home and turned around, blocking the way in.

"That stays out there." James said firmly. "You two fight at work all day. Not here. If you keep talking about politics, you sleep outside."

"But he's-" Thomas started, but was cut off by just a glare.

"Am I understood?" James said slowly, powerfully.

"Yeah."

"Yes."

Madison stepped aside and let them in, pleased with the silence. The two just glared at him and then each other for a long moment.

"It's getting late. Let's get supper started." James said, hanging up his coat.

Hamilton shook his head, "I'm not very hungry."

"You haven't had a proper meal since dinner last night." James said as he walked by, "You're eating, Alexander."

Alex turned to Jefferson and hissed, "Thanks for getting us a fuckin' _wife_ , Tom."

Thomas spit right back, "We both need him and you know it."

Before Alex could reply, they heard a "Boys?" from the kitchen that would not be ignored.

"Coming!" Thomas called as he slipped his hand into Alexander's. Then his voice softened, so only Alex could hear the concern, "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Alex said quietly.

Thomas tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, "What's bothering you? Is it Jem?"

"No, he's… he's good for us." Alex said, looking away.

"Then what is it?"

Alex closed his eyes and whispered, "You're staying, right?"

"Alexander, I promise, I will not leave you." Thomas pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then to his nose. And his eyelids. And his cheek. "I _crave_ you. No one else will take me away."

"Not even James?" Alex asked, his voice weak.

"Not even James. That's why he's here. So we _all_ can be together." Thomas smiled softly, "Do you still want that?"

"Yes." Alex's shoulders slumped and he leaned against Thomas, "I just don't want you to go."

Thomas pulled Alexander into a tight hug. "I swear, I will never leave."

* * *

"YOU'RE LEAVING!?"

Thomas flinched. He and James were just discussing how to best tell Alex. They didn't realize he had walked into the room.

"Just for monticello for a week. I'll be right back, I swear." Thomas said, holding up his hands placatingly. "James will stay with you the whole time."

Alexander looked like he was about to cry, but was holding it back. His eyes darted between Thomas and James. They were in grayscale, and that just made the moment even more devastating.

Thomas must've realized, because he came running, arms open wide, to engulf him in a hug. He let Alex bury his face in his neck as he talked. "Don't worry, it's just for a week, and I'll be right back. They're doing renovations on my house and they need me to sign some paperwork. They won't accept anything but the homeowner's, so I have to go."

"I can come with you." Hamilton suggested.

"There's no time. I leave tonight. I had already told Washington I'd be gone. You still have to work." Thomas sounded genuinely apologetic. "I'm just going to sign the papers and check on the plantation. Then I'll be back before you know it."

He turned and gestured for James. The man stepped up to them, being allowed into the hug.

"I'll come back, I promise." Thomas kissed both of their heads and then pulled away. They both hug onto a hand until the very last second; each man soaking up as much of the colors as they can. "I have to go. I'll see you in a week."

He smiled and looked up at both of them, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Alex and James both said. Alex's was desperate, emotion barely being held back: scared. James' was comforting, a promise to protect and keep peace: caring. Thomas' heart tugged at both of them. He nodded and headed out the door, a bag in his hand.

The same way Alexander's father left.

Alex waited a full ten seconds before he started crying. He'd say that was a record, but he wasn't proud of it. James wrapped his arms around him and gently led him to the couch. They sat there for a while, leaning against each other.

"He's just going on business. It's unavoidable." James said, his thumbs willing Alex's tears away.

Alex shook his head, "I told you. I'm cursed. This is how he leaves me."

"Hey." James' voice was suddenly hard as he tilted Hamilton's head so he could look into his watery eyes. "Do you love him?"

"U-undoubtedly." Alex swallowed.

"Do you trust him?"

"Of course."

James' voice grew silky then. His grip relaxed and he pulled Hamilton to his chest, allowing the other man to take comfort in his warmth. His fingers found themselves in Alex's hair, calming the other man with each touch.

"Then trust that he'll come back."

* * *

The first day or two, nothing really happened. Alex was quiet and moody, but he didn't say anything else about Thomas never coming back. Instead he let himself be taken care of by James. The other man truly was a godsend. Strong, despite his sickly tendencies. And smart, too. The man knew how to cook, cure, or make just about anything. Alex could see why Thomas liked him.

The first night; James and Alex laid on opposite sides of the bed. They were turned away from each other, partially to imagine that Thomas was there, between them.

James was the one to cave first. "I'm never going to sleep like this."

Alexander rolled over and looked at him.

"I'm used to sleeping next to a warm body. Color Collecting. This is just-"

"Lonely." Alex finished for him.

James sighed softly and nodded. He hesitated, just slightly, but pulled his arm out invitingly. Alex didn't need to be told twice. They met in the middle. In Thomas' spot.

Alex threw an arm across James' chest and wrapped his leg around one of James'. Madison had an arm wrapped around Hamilton's back, supporting his weight. The other was was lazily brushing against Alex's beard.

The two sighed in relief as warmth and comfort washed over them. They were asleep in seconds.

* * *

"This is how I die." James groaned as he leaned over the toilet.

Hamilton sat next to him, rubbing his back, "Shh, no, no. You're alright. You'll be okay."

James sat up and weakly pushed him away, "You should be at work…"

"I sent a letter to Washington, explaining to him why we're both absent. I'll be here with you all day." Alexander smiled softly, using a damp cloth to wipe spit from James' mouth. "We'll work through this together."

James smiled weakly before quickly turning back to the toilet and vomiting up everything in his stomach. Worry gnawed inside Alex's chest as he brushed his fingers through James' short hair. Madison was shaking uncontrollably. He pulled away from the toilet again, his eyes dazed.

"I'm good." James mumbled as he swayed into Alex's personal space. The immigrant helped him to his feet, taking most of his weight.

Alex led him to the couch, setting him down carefully. As soon as Madison was out of his arms he started running around frantically. He grabbed a large quilt and wrapped the man up in it and then scrambled to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and some bread.

Hamilton sat himself down next to Madison on the couch and pulled him closer until the sick man was leaning against his chest. Alexander coaxed him to eat small pieces of bread with soft words.

"Yes, you're doing great." Alex whispered, his lips brushing against Madison's sweaty forehead, "Now water. Good boy."

James ate all of the bread and drank all of the water offered to him, and then the promptly fell asleep on Alex, exhausted beyond belief. Alex shifted them around until they were laying on the couch comfortably, James on top of him.

He stared at the grey room around him. It had become familiar, it had become his home. But there was something missing from it. Someone missing.

Alex tried to ignore the pain in his chest and remind himself that he wasn't being abandoned. Thomas was going to come back. He knew it.

James shifted, curling deeper into his chest. Alex smiled as he curled a hand around the back of James' neck. Jefferson would be an idiot to leave something this precious behind.

* * *

Thomas was back a day early. He sped up the process as quickly as possible, knowing that every second he spend away from his boys, the bigger their worry would grow. He didn't want to put them through that, so he forced the carriage driver to go as fast as the horses would carry them.

When they stopped outside his house, Thomas threw his money at the man, grabbed his bags, and ran to his door. He couldn't hide his excitement as his shaking hands fiddled with the keys. He missed Alexander and James and he _really_ needed to see some colors.

When he opened the door quietly, he set down his things by the door. He couldn't hear anything and wondered if they were even home. It would suck if they decided to work late today, when he came home early. If they did, he could just make a big dinner for them.

He wandered through the house, not finding them. He hid his disappointment as he started for the kitchen. When he passed the living room, he stopped in his spots, his mouth hung open.

His boys were home, alright. They were sitting on the couch, their bodies half turned to each other. Alex was reaching for James in an aborted movement, his hand hanging frozen in the air. James had a hand on Alex's knee as he was leaning forward. Their lips were connected in a quiet, shy embrace. Thomas was witnessing something new, something yet to be explored. They chose this moment, in the safety of knowing that Jefferson wouldn't be home for another day or two, to test the waters of their growing relationship. Thomas couldn't see color at the moment, but he could tell by the shades of Alexander's skin that he was blushing furiously at the moment. James must feel the heat of it, because his lips were quirked slightly into a smile.

Alex was the one to pull away first, his head tilting down slightly as he took in a shaky breath. James smiled gently, coaxing the other man to look up at him. Alex leaned into his touch, nodding minutely. James' smile widened and he leaned in to steal another kiss. Thomas watched, unashamed, as their kisses grew from shy and hesitant to a low heat. James growled softly as he moved his mouth down to Alex's jaw.

Hamilton shifted his head to give him more room to work, a small whimper escaping his lips. His eyes fluttered open slowly. It was in that moment that he made eye contact with Thomas. His whole body froze, his eyes buldging out of their sockets.

James must've felt the change, because he pulled away, cautious and confused. He followed Alex's gaze and saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

"I-ITS NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!" Alex screamed, scrambling to pull away from James.

"My boys _like_ each other!" Thomas teased, grinning like an idiot at their embarrassed expressions.

Alexander crossed his arms, looking away, "Shut the fuck up, Thomas."

It took five full seconds after he said that for them to realize what was happening. Thomas laughed as both men's gaze snapped to him, how they threw themselves off the couch like puppies, how they jumped into his awaiting arms, how happy tears rolled down their cheeks.

"Thomas!"

"Thomas!"

"We missed you, Thomas!"

"Never leave again, you piece of shit!"

Thomas peppered kisses to every piece of skin he could reach, pleased at the color all of them could see. He led his shaking boys back to the couch where they each climbed into his lap and held him close. He couldn't stop smiling at the happy tears in their eyes.

"Did we have any Color Madness while I was gone?" He asked them gently, his tone non-judging.

Alex and James looked at each other and shrugged.

"Not really." James said. "I mean, it wasn't exactly _fun_ , but…"

"We had each other." Alex finished, taking James' hand in his own.

Thomas did _not_ squeal like a little girl at their shy blushes. "You guys are so cuuuute!"

"S-shut up!"

"You're impossible."

* * *

"Je pense toujours à mes garçons." Jefferson whispered lovingly.

James was between them, they were all curled up in bed together, and the two started speaking quietly in French. Madison didn't know any French at all, so he silently traced patterns on Alex's thigh as he listened.

"Est-ce que tu m'aimes?" Alex asked quietly, his voice frail.

"Oui, bien sûr, mon amour." Jefferson leaned over James to kiss Alexander, who lit up excitedly.

He didn't sound as scared as he asked, "Est-ce que tu l'aimes?"

"Oui. Moi aussi, je l'aime." Thomas ran a hand through James' hair. He looked over to the other man and smiled. He had no idea what they were talking about, but it sounded nice.

Alex's voice was soft as he smiled at James and whispered, "Moi aussi, je pense."

"Tu penses?" Thomas sounded hopeful.

Alex pressed a kiss to James' shoulder. He blinked in slight confusion, and smiled at the two men around him. Alex blushed an adorable red and he looked away and mumbled, "Peut-être un petit peu."

Thomas laughed and kissed Alex again.

* * *

They were in a cabinet meeting. Alexander ground his teeth at whatever Madison was saying. They stood in front of each other as they debated the topic given to them. Alex's plan was the right one, he knew it. But Madison was being difficult, as always. And Thomas was told to stay out of this debate completely. It was harder to argue with James than it was with Jefferson, because Madison was always so calm. He was so confident in what he was saying that he didn't _need_ to raise his voice; he didn't have to put up a fight, because in his eyes, there wasn't a fight at all. Which only led Alexander to look like a screaming child in the face of a rational adult. It infuriated Alex to no end.

"You're not _listening_ to me!" Alex shouted as Madison simply crossed his arms. "If we expand west, we're pushing people out of their homes. People who have been here far longer than we have, mind you. And-"

"We are a growing nation with not enough space. We need more resources. Why not follow the French west?" Madison asked calmly.

Alex raised his voice, "Because it's _wrong_!"

"We don't know how far this land goes. What if there's plenty of space in the west for both the natives and us?" James looked around the room at the faces watching the debate. "There is a whole world out there, ready to be explored. Are we to ignore it for, what, morals?"

Call him a child, Alexander doesn't care, but the best thing in his mind was to push the other man violently. He reached out and shoved him as hard as he could. But as soon as his hands landed on Madison's chest, the words he was about to spit died in his mouth.

James' eyes locked with his as they both forgot how to breathe.

"What the…?" James asked, reaching forward and grabbing Alex's still outstretched arm. Did he imagine it? No.

Alex starred as James interlocked their hands. His fingers looked so pale next to that dark brown skin. His eyes darted up, and he lost control of his knees. His legs buckled under him, but James was quick to catch him. They both slid down the floor, never once letting go of one another.

Thomas jumped over the table and was by their sides in a millisecond. "Darlings? What's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?"

The only way Alex knew he was crying was by the desperate way Thomas was wiping away his tears. James laughed, his own voice sounding choked up, as he knocked Jefferson's worried hands away gently. Thomas stared at them, a bit hurt and extraordinarily confused, when James took Alex's face in his hands and started crying, too. He was laughing as he cried, a strange combination, especially to see on the always calm-and-collected James Madison.

Alexander was clinging to Madison's coat, his eyes never leaving the other man's. "H-how is this possible?"

"I don't know!" James laughed, pulling Alex into a kiss. When they pulled apart, they looked to Thomas, who still had no idea what is going on.

"Ce garçon est mien!" Alex explained, excitement and joy obvious in his tone alone.

Thomas blinked rapidly for a second, and then he realized what Alex meant. He turned to James, "You see the colors?"

"Yes, yes, yes…" James whispered, holding Alex close.

Thomas stared at Alex, making sure he wasn't touching either of them as he clarified, "Et toi?"

"Oui, I see them, yes, oui." Alex repeated like a mantra.

Warmth and joy and disbelief and wonder all exploded out of Thomas in the form of tears. He wrapped his arms around his boys and cried with them as they all saw colors. Thomas was no longer the glue holding their weak relationship together.

Leave it to Alexander Hamilton to tell the universe to go fuck itself as he subconsciously chose his own soulmate. Because sometimes good things aren't just given to you. It takes time, patience, and trust. Sometimes, you have to _earn_ them.

Washington spoke then, "We'll, uh, reconvene after a brief recess."

The cabinet slowly left the room, staring at the blubbering mess on the floor. Washington gave Jefferson an unreadable look, and left the three alone, closing the door after them.

After a long time, when they all calmed down, the three separated. But they didn't mind the greyness. Alex and James reached out and poked each other and smiled or giggled whenever they saw the colors.

"I wonder…" Alex said, looking pointedly at Thomas and James. The Virginians understood what he meant. The two shared a somewhat nervous look as Thomas slowly reached forward.

At Thomas's soft gasp, it was clear.

They all started crying again.

* * *

None of them ever had to deal with greyscale again. Whenever one of them was gone, the other two could just gravitate towards the other. Surprisingly, this didn't ever leave anyone feeling left out.

The three were inseparable. They only had eyes for each other and they let everyone know it. People said you could see them walking around uptown, enjoying the silence for a bit, before they disrupted it.

They became the couple that Alex always hated. The ones that would sit on the park benches and watch the sunsets. The ones that would openly praise the colors they saw. The ones that would never be seen without their soulmates.

Alexander cannot believe how lucky he got. Sometimes, he still thinks about how Jefferson could leave him any moment. Madison, too. Especially now that Thomas saw colors when he touched Madison. Nothing was really keeping them here. Why did they even like him? He was everything that they weren't.

Thomas and James could see this in his eyes. In his hesitancy to reach out. In the desperate way he clung to them. In his need to sleep between the two of them. In his self-deprecating jokes. But, mostly, they saw it in the quiet ways he asked for reassurances.

Well, the boys couldn't just let Alexander sulk in his own mind. They had to do something to let him know that they were his forever.

"You should do the honors." James told Thomas. "He was yours first."

Thomas shook his head, "It has to be both of us. He wouldn't understand if it's not."

James looked like he was about to argue, but Hamilton came into the room, and he quickly shut up. Alex shot them a confused, suspicious look. But they just smiled and pulled him into a group hug, so his anxieties would wash away.

* * *

James opposed this idea adamantly.

"That's all I have to say on the matter." Thomas said, fixing his shirt as he said so. He addressed the cabinet at large when he said, "Might as well see what my fiance has to say about the topic."

But when has Thomas ever listened to reason?

The political officials surrounding them shared confused looks. They glanced at each other, started whispering. James stood up, watching the president's reaction. So far, Washington's only tell was that his eyes narrowed, focusing in on whatever what was about to happen in front of him.

Alexander, however, was an oblivious child, as always, and started his debate. "Thomas, your points, as always, are completely biased and downright wrong. I know for a _fact_ that-"

Thomas could see the exact moment that his words caught up to Alex. Because the man sputtered to a stop, staring at the two men before him. James pulled out the ring box from his pocket.

With practiced concurrence James and Thomas knelt down on their knees. James held up the box and Thomas opened it. The entire time, Alexander stared with unmistakable shock.

"Alexander Hamilton," Thomas said, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

"It would be our utmost honor," James continued, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation.

They said together, "If you would marry us."

Alexander wasn't even sure if this was real. He was staring at his boys, who were once again in gray scale (although they saw him in full color), as they awaited his answer. He glanced over to the president and was surprised to see an encouraging smile. Washington pointedly shot the kneeling men a look, and then back at Alexander; as if to say ' _go to them_ '.

"I-" Alex breathed, he looked back to James and Thomas, who were starting to grow worried, "Yes. Yes, of course."

Thomas and James jumped up and ran to Alex, pulling him into a tight hug. They took turns kissing him as tears started welling up in Alex's eyes.

"I-is this real?" Alex asked, "Are you guys serious?"

"Yes, baby, we are." Thomas mumbled, slipping the ring onto Alex's finger. James held up Alex's hand and kissed the ring, looking into Alex's eyes the entire time.

"...I cannot provide for your lives." Alex whispered, a tear escaping from his eye, "I am a poor man, I-"

James brushed the tear away, "Shh, that's okay."

"Between JemmyJames and I, you'll never be poor again." Thomas promised, kissing Alex's blush.

It was at that moment that Washington cleared his throat. The boys looked up to him, embarrassed as he said, "This is very touching. Congratulations, son. But we do have a country to run."

"Sorry, sir." Alex said, offering an apologetic smile. "I had no idea."

"With all due respect, sir." James said, tucking some hair behind Alex's ear, "this is Jefferson's fault."

"WHAAAT?!"

James looked at the other man over their fiance. "I told you not to do it in front of the cabinet."

"Yeah, but we found out about the colors in front of the cabinet! It's symbolic!" Thomas argued.

James rolled his eyes, "You're supposed to actually _do_ your job, Thomas. Not keep interrupting it."

"JemmyJames, I trusted you."

Alex looked up to them, "Uh, guys? The cabinet meeting?"

"Shh, baby, we're trying to argue, here; give us a second."

* * *

There's something different to life when you can see colors. You wouldn't expect this to be so, but it is.

When you can see the way the skyline lightens into a pale bluish-grey, hiding distant mountains behind a pleasant shade; well, there's a childish need to spread your legs and run to the tops of those mystical hills. When the only way you can tell how deep a body of water is, is by peering into the different shades of blue, there's a scientific inquisitivity that comes with diving into those cool depths. When you first experience the vastly varying shades of yellows, reds, and oranges in the dying leaves, it is certainly worth it to take a walk through the woods.

And when you can see colors, someone else will understand. Enjoy absorbing with a friend the colors of a sunset. Constantly express the beauty of that friend's eyes. Touch them; let that friend see what you see. It's certainly more humbling than it sounds. There's a deep joy in seeing the world around you, knowing that at least one other person can understand how you feel.

This is the ultimate gift of humanity.

Those who can see the colors are both happier and more blessed. They find comfort in the vibrant world around them;and when the colors fade to grey, they have no fear; because they know that they will return. Those who can't see the colors are both more focused and more distracted. They don't need to stop to watch the flowers bloom, because to them, it's just a grey bud turning into a grey plant. But, sometimes, when those thoughts keep them up at night, they reach out for someone that they know will one day be there, next to them; enjoying their slowing steps in order to look up at the luminous sky and fluffy, pure white clouds. What gorgeous colors are hidden there!

Now, for a long time, scientists couldn't tell why some could see what others couldn't. The sight would come and go; there one second and then flickering into grayscale the next. It was deemed looking into.

It was sometime around the sixteenth century that scientists and philosophers agreed that, upon testing couples, only those who were born to be together could see the colors of the world. If you were not meant to be with your partner, you wouldn't be able to experience what others could. But, with further exploration, the scientists discovered another factor.

You could only see the colors if your partner and you were meant to be together; connected by the strings of fate and the words of gods, but, there was a catch. The both of you could only see the colors, if you were touching each other. Once your skin brushed away from the other, so did the hues of the world.

It is reported that the couples in these experiments were desperate to stay touching. When the scientists segregated them; the couples did everything in their power to return to their partner. In some cases, they even resulted to using violence to get what they wanted.

These days, we call this emotional outbreak Color Madness. And the simplest cure is to hold the one that you love.

This is why, in my highest opinion, this need to search out your "soulmate", as a great sixteenth century writer dubbed, is not only valid, hopeful, and refined, but painfully necessary. Anyone who actively searches out the soulmate that will bring them color should be considered far more capable to produce educated cognitive thought that I ever was, or have yet to become.

To put it simply:

Jesus, I was wrong.

A. Ham, 38

* * *

Tell me what you think!


End file.
